Prisms

The light reflects flashes of the rainbow beyond.

Colors rest on surfaces or are carried on dust particles in the air—

They dance around curiously.

I watch them quietly.

The color strip lighting stays violet.

When I look at the TV across the room: 1 red, 1 blue—

I look back. When I blink, both are seen in a glimpse,

Adjust focus again and it’s violet once more.

Iridescent hope cascades through my soul—

That we find our own depths and love them; and in that love—find one another,

The light shows our individualities—the facets we all bring.

And in the shadows, each is indistinguishable from any other.

In my own darkness, a spark awaits.

Dim lighting illuminates certain features cloaking others.

Creativity creeps along safely hidden, awaiting a hand to hold begging it come to light—

The child turned inward when the world turned cold.

Hope grows out, rooted in solid ground—buried away beneath the years—

Green leaves breathing life and reaching toward blue sky.

Rains fall, clouds part, sun shines.

Colors dance again.