Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Dream Time

Like an ancient priestess
I cover us all
in violet pigment.

The color
is different on each of us,
not achieving
the craved-for sameness.
The pre-school purple
does not hide
who each of us
has become.

I paint with larger and larger brushes
but our hair,
grows in unexpected places,
and refuses to be covered.

I turn and notice a family--
A baby, two children
and a father with a beard.

Their hair is the color of an erupting volcano—
a dancing flame alive in the light.

They are breathtakingly united
yet strikingly unique

and I stare, marveling

that such a thing

is possible.

2 comments:

TACParent said...

This is absolutely beautiful. I think we are all "breathtakingly united yet strinkingly unique." Tupendane!!!

Dymphna (4HisChurch) said...

Thanks. This one came from two different dreams, each with a theme of hair color, oddly enough.

Poems © Gemma W. Wilson