Her heart on the brink of
exploding concrete
she wanted to fight through
the woman in her
the bramble on her
but she counted her colours
as blessings instead.
White
her knuckles as she ruffled
depleted bones
and their crushed leaves.
Brown
a lock catching her wild eye
her least favourite colour
her own hues.
Yellow
her envy of bright gold
bullions in her pockets
to ground her in oolong leaves.
Red
the heart of the problem
sowing too many beats
around the saddened bush.
Purple
her head blossoming
in all different directions
violet – was she dancing.
Black
her sleep so tight and dear
a grip of delusions and falls
on top of her world.
And back to white
morning light that saw her temple
shining through her bark
who was she now
who was she not
risen from a day of painful strokes
on her inside skin
and left gazing at another reflection
of her own tortured being
on the sky’s infinite
openness?
*Contribution to dVerse Poets Pub – Artwork by SueAnn*
Hiroshimem 