Ready, Set, Go!

I want an award, a ribbon, a medal

Or maybe a statue, a fountain, a bench

What for? No reason, really. Although… 

My walls are blank and I am afraid of the white space. There, I said it.

So, give me something to put on my wall, or else, I will have to paint something

And what I am really afraid of is the colors

It’s better if I just get a medal. Then, we can keep talking about accomplishments not about fear

So, I will train to run a 5k

Then, I will get a medal.

Red

The perfect cure for sadness, said someone.
Red is the word, the emotion, the light, flowing from yellow to blue;
I feel it touching my back...
I feel it in my hair...
I feel it with my thoughts...
because it's not black or orange.

If red is not orange, but white is also not black,
is red also white?

I say it is the perfect cure for colorless emotions,
for words floating without purpose.
Red captures the letters,
the words,
the phrases,
and makes them feelings.
Not black.

The roar of the lions in the hot desert of the world,
the beauty of the deepest ocean on a winter,
white day.
Not blue.

The overwhelming desire of strong arms around my soul,
the permanence of rocks,
and the softness of skin.
Not white.

Lists

Fields of wheat. I miss them.
Fields of sunflowers. I miss those too.

Yesterday, I made a checklist of my soul. Today I have to update it.
Which one should I publish? You know, as a private victory of my constant personal inquiry...

We measure. We strive. We improve.
We change.
And then, we do it all over again.

When should I schedule my living?
I'll put it on the list.

Blame

Is it a hole I see inside my heart?
Looking in, it seems deep and cold... but the hole has a beat.
Is it my heart that beats?

The rain will wash the blood off the pavement.
Till next time... Next time it rains or next time there's a hole in a heart?
Someone's else's heart. Mine beats.

These are children, butterflies and flowers.
The blood streaks them all, they are looking for the holes...
In the hearts, in the sky, in the leaves.

Not enough people... not enough guns... not enough God...
Not enough rain.
But enough holes?