…But It’s Fine
Oh… I’m sick all the time, did I mention that? Always sick
If sickness could be turned into a color chart…I am Green,
I have my Blue days, but only when I take my meds and write.
Blue days are the cool days, in my mellow flowing head space.
In Indigo I can stop the mundane thoughts of pain and soar.
In Green, I see the shadows on the walls but they mean nothing.
In Indigo, I see God’s camera lens playing with my waving palms
I can find the words, to write it down, going Indigo is where I love to be.
Orange and Red are headaches erupting behind my eyes, inert I breathe.
I’m full of unanswered question, eyes closed, short quick breaths; I see Dalí.
I can touch too far inside, yet powerless, I only hide, and float within insanity,
I’m not there today, with eyes wide open, I fall into Nature’s window frame.
I am grass and trees, and the birds make jokes about me, but I too can almost laugh.
Patiently, I hover over keyboard, the music lowers my resistance, now I’m forest Green.
If you were here, you’d watch me break into the biggest smile, the grateful child.
Indigo as colored glass, sparkling in the morning light, I am breathing easily; I’m back!
I find the words, find the cure, that might only last as long as this poem… but it’s fine.
March 3, 2021