Growing Down Through Colors
Martha Fleetwood Bradshaw

They say when you’re born
you come out red and screaming
thrashing angry fists at the flickering fluorescent lights
and the hum of the hospital radiator
clenching and unclenching
ten little fingers and ten little toes.
That’s when your grow up
getting a little wiser with each passing moment,
milestones marking the road to adulthood.
But when I was born
I was born into the sky
screaming a dizzying tune
and twirling from one star to the next.
My hands smelled like nutmeg
my hair was made of gold
and when I laughed
diamonds bounced off my tongue
and spewed across the universe,
twinkling in colors that didn’t yet exist.
As I grew, I sunk down lower,
until I balanced on the rim of the milky way,
dipping my toes into the river of light
and watching the ripples draw themselves into limitless possibilities.
But when I jumped inside the shimmering pool,
I choked on the sweet water
and sunk down and down under
until I was grasping at nothing but a memory
of a glistening happiness
that oozed sunshine and cherry blossoms.
I fell on the back of a field mouse
which scurried and leapt across the clouds
until my head was light and hands chapped.
The mouse turned it’s furry face to me and said
“You have to wake up! You have to stop dreaming!”
so I put my face on his soft back and cried tears of hot chocolate
and when I tasted the bitter coco I winced
because I knew it needed more sugar
but there was none to be found
My fingers were slipping and my bones ached of fatigue
when I saw a rainbow
and jumped to it in morbid desperation
but when I landed it scorched my hands with words of disbelief.
It whispered ideas of impossibility, of doubt, of fear and regret,
and its vibrant colors faded as they sept into me.
The pessimism echoed throughout my empty mind
and I rolled off the rainbow
falling through shame
embarrassment
depression
until the grime embedded itself
into my every thought and emotion.
And I fell down and down and down
until I was all grown up.
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