Illusions

Sanguine pulse, fiery amber passion.

Lips less rosy, more blush, thin like my mother’s.

Once chestnut, and burgundy and platinum, dark leather,

Now natural, rich chocolate that matches my parents.

Hazel and gold, speckled coffee galaxies too see my world,

Matching the vibrant, same lively, universes of my father.

Freckled, and mole-y, and scared from play

Earthy auburn skin during the longest days,

Fading to match pale snow-capped peaks in Mother Earth’s slumber.

My voice once a grey, quiet, slushed mummer,

A blacked-out existence, lost in the rumble.

Harsh and bitter, obtuse, and impenetrable.

Fueled by the spirits of Jim, Jack, and Jose,

Blurred faces, fuzzy lights, hazy memories, all lost in rosé.

Dependable destructors sought for comfort,

Reliably smashing fragile mirrored illusions of self.

Clear, pristine shards of truth no longer ignored,

Broken and discarded, curbside for disposal.

Examine the mess, examine the scatter.

Each piece has a place, but not as before.

Piles to sift, sort, and soften.

Re-visited with love, forgiven with empathy,

Pieces once sharp, cold, and black

Rounded with truth, warmed with compassion, and painted with kindness.

Each piece carefully rebuffed, re-loved, and replaced.

Leaving the ones that no longer deserve space. Allowing

Light to touch parts unknown before.

Seeing every color of me is in every part of you,

Seeing every color of you is in a part of me.

Beautifully composed in my time, in my own way, in my own form.

Every hue of our universe matches every atom of me,