Na Dathan Annam

People may look up at the sky

Its colours orient us perfectly

When I was young they enveloped me, it was visceral

Thoughts of adult things seemed colourless and cold

Their grey words ahead of me and their duties made me flinch

The colours of my memories wrapped me securely and hid in my core

An armor for the world and its mazes

Art school made me a promise

Then explained my duty

I listened but still hid

What if they never look up?

My memories would fade and I would be without skin.

I went back to my green field that turned blue at dusk.

My orange sky.

I finally put my colours outside me.

I don't have to hide.