The Unspeakable Letters

“Like the collision of day and night, pink and blue, screws and nails,” said Blake to Susie, the reflection. The two, before one another, coincide, clash and meet somewhere in the middle.

L

So much noise these collisions make in the night, clanging and crashing, scraping away the nature from the earth.

G

Then, in the morning there is none. But, in the silence, there is all.

Everything is in nature. Blake is nature, nature is Blake. So, everything is in Blake. But, the eternal toll strips them away to flesh and bone.

They bleed pink, white and blue until all that’s left is white.

Then, in the white, they dip a paintbrush, stroke on the outstretched canvas and bring their soul to life, to bring their invisible creations into the world.

They paint and create the babies they may or may not ever have. They paint their self-portrait until the colors bloom in them once again, spring back into their veins and beat their heart.

But, they never paint rainbow children, like themselves. Never.

B

One day, seemingly in another life, Blake was called Susie. She wore polka dots, could hum a million hymns. She was called normal. Then, she became a character, another one on her white-painted canvas. Her portrait conflicted with theirs. Her polka dots were theirs now. But, all she was told was that “they” wasn’t nature.

T

So, they stood in silence. The silence was nature. It was nature to Blake. Susie was the silence.

Blake was brave enough to bleed rainbows into the silence, as her brothers and sisters in faith are brave. They join hand in hand, heart in heart. Their songs weave together and fade into the silent nature that was and wasn’t Blake.

But, they still bleed.

Q

When the rainbows bleed into the empty canvas,

you’ll see it in the streets,

the sidewalks,

the hearts and minds of all the other rainbow children.

No one will forget The Ones That Are and Aren’t Nature.

The Unspeakable Letters.