Muddled

I started as a ray of sunshine. Gold.

Born into promise and joy and hope.

Screeching my way across the sky in the boldness of being alive.

I’m here. I’m ready. Let’s go.

I began to drift into a moon phase. Blue.

Growing into a cold dark abandonment.

Howling with anguish at the reference of a family.

I’m here. What happened? Did I do this?

I morphed into a sickening creature of feeling. Red.

Ageing gracefully into cuts in my skin.

The guttural urge to scream at anyone who dared love me.

I’m here. Why are you? Why do you hurt me like this?

I changed who I was to blend in. Green.

Fading slowly into the sea of voices around me.

I silenced myself so that no one could see me or know me.

I’m here. You wouldn’t know it. Good.

I was thrust into the open as myself. Black.

Dripping with shame and self hatred.

I found my voice and lit up the night with my singing.

I’m here. I found me. I hate me.

I stripped myself bare to my foundations. White.

Anxious to see who I was beneath it all.

I spoke softly to my trauma and took it into my body like a warm light.

I’m here. You’re here. We’re both here.

I built myself back up stronger. Muddled.

I walked on air with lead feet.

My voice echoed against the walls of resistance and I cried.

I’m here. All of this is here. Too many colours that make me who I am.

Do you see me?