The Deepest Red
By Christianez Dennis
In my spritely years, I wondered what would be
The brilliant hues that pattern my life’s tapestry
Strand after strand of dyed string I’d knit
Beneath my eyelids, where my daydreams are lit.
Will there be yellowed sunshine and parchments bare
To hold my words and open my hair.
Or will my cheeks bloom in a blush
Set on fire by a young man’s touch.
Or the cerulean of the ink, will it flow through my veins
Dripping when I bleed to make heart shaped stains.
Or am I promised the green, of prosperity abound
And the smell of the rain, on freshly mown ground.
Maybe even purple, from the palette of dusk
As music fills the days, blithesome and brusque
There will be some black, about that I was sure
Times I’ll break down and every moment seems demure.
But do I even dare to hope for the pearly white?
For when I’ll forgive myself and make things right.
When I’ll inflict wounds, stumble and fall
Then pick myself up and learn to stand tall.
And yet my dear, even before I was born
Red were your eyes, when my womanhood you mourned.
My scarlet hands fashioned by endless screams
When words and letters were but a forgotten dream.
Sanguine, your words, paint my shame
As you call me a harlot (easy, too easily) as though it were a game.
My groom values me, only by the red
With which he expects me to stain my marriage bed.
Ruby bloom bruises, that like beauty marks I’ll wear
When life frustrates you, and your grief you’d share.
And red sparks your jealousy when people admire my visage
So I’ll cloak myself from head to toe, and live like a mirage.
Coral, I paint on smiles, pleasing to your glance
So you’d never know, that on the shrapnel of broken hopes I dance.
Garnet, the lies, that I don on my face
As I run (I’m always running) in that unrealistic beauty standard race.
And slowly, carmine drips, painful and wet
As I fight for my rights, and equal value for my sweat.
And so now when I look, as my tears flood
I see a portrait of a naive girl, soaked in blood.
By Christianez Dennis
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