The Colour Black
I’m sharing my musings on The Colour Black (and its twin post, The Colour White) with a particular intent, which is to stand up for what I believe is the most important thing for anybody who wants to write or create something.
The most important thing is to show up, howsoever the outcome.
I may be far from happy with these two pieces. But this is what emerged during the (almost) daily writing practice that I’ve recently committed to. This is evidence of the fact that I actually did what I had promised myself I would do, which is to sit at my desk and write, even if it was at the fag end of a long day full of a thousand other things.
This is what emerged when I decided to show up, even if tired, reluctant, and convinced beyond doubt that what I would write would be below par (so why bother).
This is what I wrote when harsh voices in my head told me over and over again that I know nothing, and can say nothing that would ever matter.
Grateful to my partner for providing inspiration with these seemingly random, but actually well-thought-out prompts on days when I had no clue what to write about.
The Colour Black
Black’s not a colour. Black’s the pall of death.
Black’s all colours sucked in, holding tight their breath.
Black is inky blackberry, sweet and tart to eat.
Black is black-eyed pea, legume by itself replete.
Black is black magic, newt’s eyes and toad’s tail.
Black is Black Friday, free coupons in the mail.
Black is Black Bustard, long-legged, bold white cheeks.
Black is turtlenecks iconic, gear worn by geeks.
Black is vision unnuanced, seeing black and white.
Black is Black Death, death-plague, that killed with all its might.
Black is Sewell’s Black Beauty, fond and trusty steed,
Black is one George Floyd, crushed till he couldn’t breathe.
Black is a black hole, starry corpse, singularity at its heart,
Black’s what’s sucked into oblivion, to never forever part.
Black is the swirling universe, ever-expanding and wise,
Black is what appears when we close our eyes.
Black is Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe,
Black is black lives matter, we’ll not take it lying low.
