The quiet change

I am soft truths against strident lives of vibrant meaning

I am grays and mauves and pinks and muted blues

Against neon hues shouting their views and screaming and demeaning

To be more or better and LOUDER (not gentler, not kinder)

Not hearing or seeing that tiny things, together, can grow and spread and become large

That colors, when concentrated, like people activated, become bolder - and arm-in-arm, magnify one another

I am quietly working to change the range of my volume

To turn me up and broadcast me out

To change my colors to contrast and to blast out what is wrong – what should not go ignored

You will learn (dear Universe, let it be) that being louder does not mean being prouder, (but sometimes it should)

Talking heads on blast - shift and duck and stir bright bold colors to hide behind

I want the front row seat to watch these colors age and fade and crack and chip into dust

Your legacy is tainted with colors of hate

It’s time for us