Black and white was my modus operandi;
Clothes, shoes, people, thoughts and religion.
But then my perceptions became distorted in pursuit of perfection;
Trying to avoid anxiety, depression and feelings of inadequacy.
I arranged myself: straight-jacketed, restricted, a life half lived.
My vision is clearer now, despite being doubled, optical nerves damaged and my peripheral limited;
Seeing things not as black or white, but as grey.
In this strange way, my vision has become more enhanced, freer, nuanced
Grey is not bleak but the platform,
Being present is better than being perfect.

An arranged marriage
A love that never was

So many secrets
And untouched lands

The burdens she carries
In pursuit of happiness

From God's forest
Of dusk line hills

The plainstones palace
Is the necklace she wears
To commence the descent

A soft jubilant rain
Promises borealis
And offers of peace

She prays silently for each
As they lower the crown
In a flourish of confetti

It's all about pageantry
It's all about possession

And the way she sits
On her throne
Like she sits
On the King's face

Hopeful waiting versus
Begrudgingly waiting,
It takes the weight off,
While you wait.