The outline of my life has been drawn.
I’ve had the freedom to pick and choose my colors.
It’s up to me to color in the picture.
Only I can bring this sketch to life.
I glance at the black and white photograph.
When this photo was shot, did they see beyond the baby?
Did they see possibility? Did they dare draw a future for me?
I refuse to connect someone else’s dots. I will connect my own life.
Through time my outline has stretched to include all the eye does not see.
I am much more than an image, a sketch, a photograph.
I am a life. I exist in living color.
I am all that purple dares to be, yet I am a calming ocean blue.
I am scarlet, a sizzling fire, that melds to a yellowed moon.
I am the green grasses of home and the brown of forest’s deep.
I am all that hides beneath the darkness and all that sparkles within ice.
Maybe I should erase my outline and leave a rainbow instead…
after all life is possibility.
As difficult as it is to read the inside story of a black and white photograph, it’s impossible to read the colors of a black and white life.
I’m off to buy some color markers. Better yet, I think I’ll make my own paint.