I don’t usually try for poems.
There isn’t a rule book, for being human.
If there was, then I feel like we’d all disagree and argue over what it should say.
I feel like there would be at least as many versions of that rule book as there were humans doing the writing. Each one would be just a little different, even though I’m almost sure that most would have a few things in common.
In my head, I can picture us as this spectrum of different colors – bright red on the one side, deep blue on the other – but most of it’s just different shades of purple.
Sometimes red goes well with other shades of red, or blue works well with blue, and I – I guess the truth is that sometimes they can’t, and don’t. Sometimes two colors from opposite sides compliment each other perfectly, in the beginning, but then become faded and weathered by time
but most of us
so many of us
are purple, from indigo to violet to magenta and maroon, lilac purple, rich and royal purple, easy-on-the-eyes purple, your grandmother’s favorite sweater or fallen plumbs or the tattered case for that first CD you got when you were ten PURPLE
Sunrise on the pond purple. Amethyst. Flecks in her eyes when she smiles.
The lucky ones sometimes find just a few other shades of purple that match up pretty well with their own purple, and shine a little brighter, with each other, for a while.
And even when they’ve all run and faded and crumbled to dust, they’ll remember…
we’ll seem somehow all the brighter, even after all this time.
and blue can look at red and see the beauty in it
and rivalry or rapture is a choice
but I think that the answer is somewhere in the middle of this purple
The meeting of edges, the mixing of opposites
compromise, harmony, androgyny, and light
It might take a lifetime to see it. I’m trying to open my eyes up, when I can.
Meet me in the middle, purple.
so when we stumble on the yellow, and the orange, and the green
maybe sometime we will all know how to dance after the rain
together,
Purple.
Thank you and goodnight.
