Black Boundaries

Someone drew out thick black boundaries

Claiming that the boundaries drew themselves

Around her. It was the black magic

Of her intellect, or her physique or

Her creativity- they said. Tipping

The fencing with golden slivers

And a golden gate, which she was told

Would open if it was beckoned by deserving.

But that's too much to believe of

The girl who lets rainbows

Dance in the solidity of each color.

Rainbows can't gallivant in black light,

They quivered, shivered and crept away.

And she saw only too clearly, the bold

Strokes of black that confined her

Mercilessly. Her eyes were black

With despair. She reckoned something

Within her was the artist of black.

Voices eager and shallow reiterated

Her first instinct. But they were only

Wise and caring to her then. Voices

Drawn in self-imposed boundaries

Which appeared self-sure, confident

To the one who had actually so been.

She bore the pain with patience and

Toyed with the space she had, while,

All that in her heart and mind ,

Which could have driven away

A black-artist, had there been one,

Gradually began to flow out-
Coloring the black; it appeared to her

That she had become worthy

Again, fit again; while the truth

Remained, that something had told

Her to see the multi-color only

Now, which it had always been.

Comments

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The Happy Wanderer

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