orange.

- the juice of revival -

maybe the opposite of wounding,
is vitality.
dripping in orange,
like a fruit cut wide open,
the juice is still sweet.

maybe it's actually vivid oil pastels,
smearing across my sketch pad.
remembering vibrant colors
that were once black and white,
the colors of sad.

maybe it's moving slower now,
to actually savor what I'm eating.
putting my phone down,
hand on my chest,
listening to my heart beating.
to feel the breeze move through me,
instead of by me.
there's a difference.

and i've retired that old story,
that i'm broken.
when I know deep down,
i was born whole.
let me pass it back,
like an old, tarnished token.

and a new path,
and way of being,
have - been - chosen.
so when I show up
imperfect and buzzing
from currents unspoken,
at least I feel alive.

like a lightning bolt.
that shows the storm,
what quiet beauty looks like,
illuminated from the inside.