Black and White
when the weights of the world
become unbalanced –
the weight distributed incorrectly
according to, well, me
I go to the museum
the giant stone building
encased in history
held together by memory
dusted off by experience
its rough grey edges
are ugly and vague.
it’s hard to tell anything for sure
when everything becomes that grey.
the walls, they
beg and plead for me
not to come in
not this time
you said you wouldn’t, please, please
at first I try and listen
considering simply turning around
and finding another place to heal
but the grey-ness of that fucking museum…
I can’t stand it. The laziness of it.
So I push the heavy wooden doors in,
leaning all my weight against their stature
putting all of myself into it
holding back nothing
and I enter my museum.
inside, the frozen faces
of fear, sadness, pain, regret, guilt, shame, contempt, happiness, anxiety, fear, rage, anger, depression, fear,
and all their combinations.
No more grey – everything’s in black and white.
I exhale deeply; all I needed to know was that this place
That I hadn’t lost it;
hadn’t forgotten how to get in,
hadn’t forgotten how to read it,
hadn’t forgotten the importance
of seeing things in Black and White.