Color In Death

(Written for Vee's "Daily Battle" competition)



What has died,
Has opened the canvas, blank,
New,
To be colored,
Or colored again—
Redone.

My purplish[/font]-pink[/font] scars,
A forever reminder
Of the surgeon’s knife,
And the perma-brown spots
From radiation—
I must stretch daily
To keep my arm and chest muscles from atrophy.

My hair,
Reborn and regrown
With far more gray than before,
But my thoughts are painted rainbows—
Hopeful,
Looking toward the future
And all it holds,
And me,
Wanting to color it
In a way I always should have
Before I saw death.

But now
Even death is bright
For I know that when my invitation comes,
I’ll traverse the fields of lavender[/font], coral[/font] and yellow[/font]
Wildflowers
Until I reach the moment
When all colors become the white light
Of God’s eternal throne.



(Photo from my own collection, taken looking into one of the crypts at St. Joseph's Cemetery, Fitchburg MA)