Space For Grey

Stay, withhold, obey.

•

Strike me with your words, your passion obtuse,

You say omniscient, it's not meant for me,

You see what you want to see.

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A spectrum of colour and still you acknowledge only black and white.

•

Your feelings above all, your pride, my fall.

Heavy hands control my breath, stop my heart, 'follow your head' you say,

Eyes up. Do not fall prey. Make your path. Build it my way. Don't blacken your shine.

•

Funny how you think, you can run with what you say,

The black and white, but never the grey - The cold harsh light of your lived reality.

How great! How true!

But I am not you.

•

Live in the light, four words burned deep. Fight.

Result is shadow, never light

and your knowledge of shine?

It's not wrong, but it's not mine.

You can't begin to see the line,

I explain, I walk, I fall,

once again to you I crawl.

Accept my grey for equal.

•

What will it take.

The individual I am. The rarity you covet. Novelty in growth. Naive belief, I'll turn that new leaf, but you'll stay,

Stuck/stagnant/still.

Be it my will, you'll rejoice in our uniquiness, our oddity, our grey.

•

Eyes hold mine.

Green, grey, brown, black - the depth of hope and hunger for a brighter day.

A safe day,

a day of colour, a mirror of shadow.

An inclusive belonging. Sense of home.

•

A spectrum of love and still you cling to hate,

still you long to other, dulling my light to ensure that you thrive.

Your black, and your white.

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Cutting words from a colour-blind mind -

stay, withhold, obey, you say.

But how does that allow for grey?

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By Beth Foster