OUR COLORS REMAIN
By Jena Gonzales
Colors. My first thought is of the giant crayons I used as a child. The ones we would hold onto with our entire fist.
Now I think of the fullness of life and everything and everyone in it. I often say I had a colorful childhood, merely a flowery way describes the hard times I faced before age nine.
See my story is difficult, I used to think this left me damaged and different.
Now I see it has uniquely painted me as the masterpiece I am.
Though the colors do fade, like the day I held you one last time as your colors drifted away.
I didn’t know if I would recover, if I could ever regain your colors that shine through my days.
Before I knew it all my colors were gray.
I can hear you sing softly “don’t take my sunshine away.”
Colors can be muted, mudded and fade.
But through gratitude, through grief, and growth our colors will stain.
Leave their mark and shine like broken glass that hangs, glimmering and sparkling on all that remains…
Colors, my first thought is of the giant crayons I used as a child. The ones we would hold onto with our entire fist.
Like those colors I will never let go of this.
