Hidden Colors (A Haibun)

Originally Published 10/25/2017

Hidden Colors (A Haibun)

I rush past the black and white world, snapshots and stills holding their breath in their invisible orbs. Rain pelts my umbrella as I struggle to balance my backpack, lunch bag, phone, and life, trying to minimize wet papers and frizzy hair and exhaustion, rushing to my car, feeling the energy of the slug washed up at my feet,

first day back energy,

blood-red energy, the color of frenetic breath,
my heart echoes in emptiness.

Make the most of the shift,
embrace the busy-ness, activity, movement,
the buzz of energy and adrenaline,
the return to doing.

The time for contemplation has passed,
now is the time for action.

This is not a week to dive deep,
rather glide the surface and hold on.

Save the commentary
and philosophical ponderings
for another day.

Today is verdant green,
the color of growth and wildness,
cover my nakedness with illusionary tactics.

Your neat little order is fraying already, outside the lines, spilling over, recklessness and disorder transgressing.

Sift out the essential essence and
hold on, but gently.

Remember,
you have grounded.
It's now time to take flight.

Rebalance the load.

Sing the song you were meant to sing;
it will find its tune as you go up.

Sing blue, the color of sky, of flight, of the day,
your hollowness flows as you open your heart.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2017

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