serendipity

poetry for when poetry is not enough

poetry for when poetry is not enough and all we see is red.

(red might be anger because of how angry it is and red might be love because of how urgent it is but i think it is too much. too much human in one color so it screams and cries and begs for your help. red is too much of a reminder of how exhausted you are. how vulnerable you are. how scared you are. to touch something this human. this broken. it is a miracle our hearts have not shattered.)

poetry is not enough so i'll write about how red i think you are.

which is to say i'll love you anyway.

poetry for when poetry is not enough and all we see is orange.

(analogies to sunsets might be made and long essays might be written. because orange reminds us of every colour the sky tries to hide. "orange is a mystery" i say. "and so is loving" you reply. but loving is not a mystery. loving is as clear as day, as cold as it is warm, as happy as it is sad, as bright as it is dark, as easy as it is difficult. sunsets are temporary, loving is not. sunsets paint the horizon with magic but it will always get dark. i hope loving doesn't do the same.)

poetry is not enough so i'll write about how orange i think you are.

which is to say i hope you will stay.

poetry for when poetry is not enough and all we see is yellow.

(yellow for when the sun loved us more than anything. yellow for the sweet sweet sweet songs we listened to under september sunlight. yellow for sun glazed cheeks and happy smiles. yellow for feeling whole despite being incomplete. i will love you like yellow. sunlight in my bones. sunlight in my heart.)

poetry is not enough so i'll write about how yellow i think you are.

which is to say you complete me everyday.

poetry for when poetry is not enough and all we see is green.

(i see stars now. do you know that? i trace the constellations with my fingers but they make no sense to me. beautiful things have never made sense to me. i think they love us. i hope they love us. they illuminate brightly under the night sky and i am starting to forget. is that what green is, forgetting? there is no difference to me between dreams and memories. the sky is getting darker and you are getting harder to see. ironic, because i always remembered you as a a star. or am i forgetting again.)

poetry is not enough so i'll write about how green i think you are.

which is to say don't forget me, okay?

poetry for when poetry is not enough and all we see is blue.

(let me speak to the skies, they will cower. let me speak to the stars, they will hide. let me, let me, let me. they will not answer. the sea has not returned what it took and i wait by the tides, impatient and blue. the wind is just as angry, it has destroyed home and you. my heart is hurting and my eyes are dried up. perhaps, blue is not melancholy, or sadness or despair. it is just you everywhere but here.)

poetry is not enough so i'll write about how blue i think you are.

which is to say i missed you today.

poetry for when poetry is not enough and all we see is indigo.

(indigo is piercing and loud. it is pain beyond pain. it is the numbness that follows days of anger. it is anger at god, anger at you. it is to feel nothing and to feel everything. it is to cry at the sky for let it feel small. it is to cry at the sun for let it feel rage. it is to cry at the stars for let them feel lost. how incredibly foolish of us to think we could defy all odds. fearless like death we would joke. we are not as brave as we think. this world is not as kind as we think. and i am in pain. my art is pain and my poetry is pain. i can no longer see. i can no longer write.)

poetry is not enough so i'll write about how indigo i think you are.

which is to say too much has been taken away.

poetry for when poetry is not enough and all we see is violet.

(take me through fields of violet flowers and i will smile and say "there is love". take me through storms and the angriest of oceans and i will smile and say "there is love".  take me to homes that were built on kindness and i will smile and say "there is love". take me to cities that love me as i marvel over languages i can not speak and i will smile and say "there is love". take me to the stars and i will smile and say, albeit a little afraid "there is love".)

poetry is not enough. poetry never will be.

but i think love is. i think love will be.