Work of Art

As I walked, colors started to replace my world of fragmented black outlines; my emergence from a place where identity meant conforming

Still, wouldn’t the greens envy the yellows? Could there be too many competing shades of pinks?

Contemplating, I thought I preferred the vibrant redness of the cardinal but the blue jay had gorgeous patterns in its wings

Not factoring in my opinions, they graced the sky, my approval or preferences had nothing to do (one way or the other) with their beauty, or their abilities to fly

I saw them fly to the colorless world and part of me feared for them, I expected they would lose their identities

But, they kept their colors, oblivious, never experiencing a world where judgment could strip away one’s self-assurance

So, they remained all that they were, not blending in, but each soaring through the skies, their colors vibrant

The blue jay and the cardinal returned and drank from the pond and I could see their reflections among the kaleidoscope of liquid pigments

Excited, I turned back to view the world of black lines and white spaces and it was filling in with colors

Turning again towards the pond, I saw myself, but not just myself, everything was clear to me

Somehow my colors were not muted, I was an individual my reflection luminous, no longer a simple line on a page without substance, but a work of art

It is easy to get lost in a world where the need for approval defines you, recognizing your own value makes your colors stand out, vibrant and confident