True Colours

snowblowerrainbow

A flash of dizzying brilliance –

and rainbows arc and dance,

Science defying gravity.

Remove the Light,

and the mystery implodes;

a vortex of chaotic, gaping grief-space

unlit,

unloved,

falls by warped way-side.

But once rainbows are born,

first-born suns illuminate

the pain-place,

and Wounded walk,

painted in surreal stripes,

labelled

True Colours…

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The Walking Wounded

A heart divided,

a two-faced smile;

one part frozen,

dying, while

the other bravely

carries on,

the Walking Wounded –

going,

gone.