Swimming Thru Rain(bows)

Beloved,

May I stretch my own memories

beyond the binds of time?

May I reference recollections

as historical happenings?

My perspective by more relateable than race, more common than the golden fibers etched into dreams.

I can’t choose one shade to be favored.

For I am certain of one thing and one thing only: all life exists in the middle of spectrums.

The space between,

that’s where I was born.

On the bridge between life and death

that is where I came to blossom.

I drowned

trying to cling too closely to any(one) thing.

Like a child

lovingly squeezing the life from fireflies,

admiring the fractured light too closely,

holding on too tight

taints the tinted night.

I drowned, and swam from one end of the spectrum to the other

trying to mirror the caricatures of joy in my visions field.

Like distorted rays

siphoned

through a prism,

my light source fractured into pieces.

You always thought my soul was more beautiful broken,

split between the tethered ends of reality.

Instead of admiring my natural tinge,

you preferred to imbue me with imbalance, mixed me until my blood turned muddy.

And the moment I realized

it was my own hand who handed you the spoon to stir my bucketed heart like painters creating the perfect lacquer,

I was met with a second certainty: relationships are reflections.

The truth of who I am emerged from your pupils.

How can you see my depth with eyes closed, beloved?

Color exists between the fullness of light and the hovering darkness,

the physical evidence of many expressions generated from one source.

We see color how we see each other, a portion of the whole,

swimming through rainbows, through spectrums, somewhere between realms,

a mere reminder of our existence in the middle.