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I Wear All Black

by Vo Vera 2 years ago in surreal poetry
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A Poem About The Color Black

I wear all black.

I used to think it was a statement.

To show I was in touch with my emotionally darker side.

To try backspins without begriming my shirt.

To avoid skid marks in my underwear.

To make me look more mature.

More dangerous. More cool.

To wield a mismatched monotone dress style that I didn't have to think about.

To appear like I was almost dressed up––it was just the color.

Really I was testing my peers, my surroundings, my Self.

I was hiding in the shadows.

A ninja-quiet predator with an ultra light presence wrapped up like a mummy in as much dark fabric as possible.

I was standing in the streets of normality,

my silhouette befuddling the perfect background of white Suburbia.

I was standing against the shadows of normality,

my silhouette marking a counterprotest to the perfection of white.

They say the eyes are windows to the soul.

Surrounded by the sclera's white backdrop there is a silhouette of depth, receptivity, and beauty.

Like the infinite outer space of life's mysteries and wonders,

your inner space holds infinitely the same between each iris.

They say fear the unknown. Looking into black waters that run as far as the tallest mountain is high.

Applying fear onto nonexistent wounds of their imagination.

Wounds of what could be; wounds of maybe if.

Fear of how dark the night gets, but they must not associate a color with how strong their fear is.

Black is not the answer to this inquiry.

It is merely a guide that poses questions of strength toward the unknown.

Black is intelligent.

Agglomerating all of the color, emotion, thoughts and feels from the surrounding white background.

Black is empathic.

The absorption of information of every other color, emotion, thought and feel.

Black is strong.

A heightened sense of awareness

that protects the souls of those who wear it.

Obsidian, Jet, Black Torumaline, Smokey Quartz, Hematite, Black Kyanite, black is strong.

My clothes may fade, black does not.

Like the pressures of heat and light of the day that store inside this color,

where other colors will reflect,

black absorbs all the attitudes and vibes that surround it.

Not empty voids, black holes are the strongest masses of material

that this dimension can provide, condensed into a marble-sized point.

And as all other colors project, black stands through all of those projections.

A history of histories untold when black has always

amassed and assembled onto the shoulders of its own strength

the massive semblance of all others' projections.

Black stands through the worst staining and soiling by other colors.

Black is strong, and hard to wear.

I wear all black.

But that is nothing compared

to those who when they remove all of their black clothes,

their bodies still dawn skin of the same color.

surreal poetry

About the author

Vo Vera

Dancer | Performance Artist | Hand Balancer | Poet | Photographer

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