Colors

6/6/22

This poem is quite special to me. I’ve really enjoyed writing and editing it, as well as reading it at poetry clubs and open mic establishments, where it’s been warmly received. It’s also the first poem I’ve ever written that contains a preface. I thought it needed an introduction to set it apart from the poem proper.

 

Preface

 

Fresh graffiti

on a blank canvas

called Life.

 

We’re all artists,

seeking to survive,

trading in guns and knives

for tongues of spray paint,

 

battling sharp tongues

for space to sign our names,

 

buying us some time

for colors to dry.

 

PART I

 

The most possessive

of all creatures.

 

Red, yellow and blue,

and everything in-between,

infused the Garden

with everything

that could be seen;

 

ravenous eyes

that drank in

the celestial light

of sun by day

and moon by night.

 

Red,

the most passionate of all,

started the first brush fire

with the spark of an apple

that stained Adam and Eve’s

fingertips.

 

With one small bite

the curtain of purity

was pulled back,

postponing the engagement

and exposing cracked lips.

 

A darker hue,

spawning passion and sin,

slithered into Abel’s tent,

leaving a crimson trail;

 

the beginning of the end,

the snake eating its own tail.

 

Cane’s forked tongue

hardened over the years

as the history of violence ensued,

 

culminating into spikes

and a long spear

that pierced the heart of Innocence,

crucifying heaven’s Brood,

 

and drained Israel and Palestine

of a bitter blood feud.

 

The end of the beginning,

no longer a curse

but a Celebration of Life,

covered in pink amniotic fluid.

 

How much sweeter

the breath of everlasting life

that emanated

from this red-colored fluid?

 

PART II

 

Yellow,

the most promiscuous of all,

paints a prolific picture

of bees, butterflies and birds,

attracting flamboyant friends

on the grass

by the schoolyard,

 

a posse of pollinators

and preachers of reproduction

(plants and flowers),

 

ecosystem guardians

with miracles

for wings

that dance and sing

a playful tune.

 

The delicate balance of nature

and the fate of our children’s future

at stake,

nostalgic games

like hide-and-seek

that make great memories gold

and gold memories great.

 

Amber, sap and honey

enchant us with their

holistic healing powers

 

like dandelions

harvested in full bloom—

valedictorians of biodiversity—

sewn into the multidimensional fiber

of every poet’s soul,

wizards of nature

plucked from the Shire.

 

It’s also the most paradoxical of all

like a gay guitar without strings

or a caged canary

that belches instead of sings

or the tale of a cowardly lion,

looking for a brave heart,

or a broken sundial

that brags about telling time

but fails a simple eye chart.

 

Yellow reminds us

to stay in our lanes

and like a cold beverage

at the end of a long day,

it’s always glad we came.

 

It’s the crown and currency

of a monarch

and the bitter taste

of an authoritarian empire.

 

It’s the penultimate stage

of a contusion

and the pungent smell

of a soaked diaper.

 

It’s “highlights” at the end

of an endless summer

and the burgeoning light

of Rome,

awakening the statue

of Saint Peter.

 

It’s the middle

of every reggae song

and the divine spark,

handsome and tall,

from the beginning

of creation

that started it all.

 

It’s the trumpet

that heralded the Savior

and the straw

laid in the manger.

 

It’s the dichotomy between

the caution tape

around a boarded-up room

of painful memories

and children playing,

carelessly,

in piles of raked leaves.

 

It saturates the Egyptian pyramids,

terrestrial monuments

of yellow sweat and stone.

 

The Great Giza Triangle below

hungers for the heavenly

monument above

like a dog licking a bone,

 

the other half

of the hourglass puzzle,

a lemon sun strung up

by a cloud in the sky;

 

a divine sunset

to bid the day goodbye.

 

PART III

 

Blue,

the bravest of all,

irons the uniforms

of the ones

we come to call

to “protect and serve”

single working mothers

in the ghetto

with bars on her windows

terrorized by the “bang-bang” sound

of notorious gangs

that take what they think

they deserve.

 

Open your eyes.

 

See the bioluminescence,

ascending rhythmically

up,

up

from the abyss

 

or God’s firework show

descending hazily

down,

down

in dancing waves

of lingering light,

the Holy Grail

of sky watching,

the aurora borealis,

the northern lights.

 

Now close your eyes.

 

Listen to the sound

of cerulean,

the soft echo

that guides the path

of the free bird.

 

It’s all the courage you need

to inspire you to glory

and push the boundaries

that hold you back.

 

It’s the space

between you and the ground

when you’ve ollied a “ten-stair.”

 

Scoffers beware

of the oracle:

 

“Excuses are another name

for self-made bruises

that leave you colorblind

to see the warn lyrics

to your own broken record.”

 

Listen again if you didn’t hear

the voice of God

the first time.

 

Put down the blue screen

and consult the chlorophyll

within creation;

read one or two lines

of natural theology

written for skeptics

like you and me.

 

Distractions

are irrational numbers

that steer you

in the opposite direction

of your destination,

mesmerizing you

with a kaleidoscope

of unpredictable colors

and sensations.

 

In the Himalayas,

it’s widely rumored

and habitually said,

 

“The color

of love frozen

is an irreverent shade

of icy blue.

 

“It’s a pulse seduced

by the darkness of indigo;

a heart holding on by a thread.

 

“Still there’s so much

more this pigment can do.

 

“Come see for yourself

the statues of lovers

spurned and burned

by the kiss of frostbite.

 

“Where not even

the rarity of a blue moon

escapes the howl

of a wolf by night.

 

“Icicles of rejection

are shrapnel in the heart.

 

“A cold shoulder in a blizzard

is a good place to start.

 

“The only way to dethaw

our frozen friends

is to go back

to the beginning

and add

a touch of red.”

11/5/24

Kernels of gold sowed in sweat. Embodied husks designed to protect. Multicolored grain, a heavenly harvest. The plague in the Garden— one locust started— the Reaper ransoms to forget.   A rotted ear only hears the screams of its own dissection, an eternity of introspection. Rows of corn restless with guilt. The cup of wrath…

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10/18/24

Christmas for Ginny has always been the most important day of the year. It’s a magical day when anything is possible, like the unprecedented miracle of God taking on human form; it’s when a supernatural star led the Magi to the infant God-man, lying helplessly in a symbolic feeding trough; and it’s when men met God face-to-Face in a humble manger to worship him and feed from him. Ginny loves Christmas for both its majestic beauty and historical truth. She understands, however, that this sacred day has been tainted with folklore and commercialism, but experience and wisdom enable her to see these gilded traditions as a way to bridge the gap between the sacred and the profane. For Ginny, a gift for someone special on Christmas is a reminder of the greatest Gift ever given. So naturally Ginny wants to give Brad something special for Christmas. But she, too, finds herself without two pennies to rub together. Then, suddenly, an idea flashes across her mind that makes her eyes water, feeling the internal warmth that comes with giving wholeheartedly.

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10/17/24

Ten years ago, my parents, Robert and Sheila, were killed in a car accident on Christmas Day. A head on collision with a drunk driver took them away from me. It turned out that both front airbags were defective. They were coming back from looking at Christmas lights. My seven-year-old daughter was in the back seat. She was not wearing her seatbelt. She was thrown from the wreckage. She died instantly.

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