Disguises

My mother loved to wear loud colors, especially red.  Her laugh could be heard above the din of any crowded room.

Not me.  I dress mostly in black, try to fade unnoticed into the background of other peoples’ lives.  I avoid parties.

But my eyes crave color, my hands long to manipulate texture and shape, to form visual ideas that enhance and delight.  I have a hidden closet full of rainbows—painted, embroidered, knitted, woven into intricate arrangements.

All those vivid narratives remain unworn by my own days, the ones I dress in, their stories patterned and purple.

As night surrounds me, only then do I take them out to display, to embellish my own possibilities.  I close my eyes and enter a parallel world, one in which I cover myself with a thousand glittering mirrors, quilted with moonlight, seams stitched with prismatic stars.

For dverse, where Lisa asked us to use a line from Kimberly Blaeser’s poem, “When We Sing of Might,”–I dress in their stories patterned and purple as night–in composing our prosery.

41 thoughts on “Disguises

  1. A closet of rainbows…..what a stunning, intriguing narrative, really beautiful poetry, a glimpse into a world, hidden by the black exterior.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Kerfe,
    My mother loved to wear red, her red silk sari is the one I picture her in still. I rarely wear red for the very reason you say, “to fade unnoticed.” How sad and yet so hopeful your poem is with its “hidden closet full of rainbows” that shine through your heart …. and your art! Here you “embellish my own possibilities.” How wonderful!
    Pax,
    Dora

    Liked by 1 person

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