The Kaleidoscope Girl
The morning is a mountain I must scale,
Or else a canyon where I’ve fallen deep.
One hour, I am the wind within the sail,
The next, a ghost who only wants to sleep.
The colors of the world are far too bright,
Then suddenly, they’ve bled to static gray;
I chase the pulse of a manic, golden light,
Before the heavy shadows lead astray.
But in the corners, other voices wake,
A fractured chorus whispering my name.
They tell me that the floorboards are a lake,
And set the quiet afternoon aflame.
I see the patterns moving in the wood,
A secret code I’m desperate to untie;
I’d explain the visions if I only could,
Instead of watching as the world slips by.
“Why do I do the things I do?” I ask,
As words spill out I didn't mean to plant.
My own reflection wears a stranger’s mask,
And every "can" becomes a heavy "can't."
I am a radio between two stations,
Catching the music, then the horrid hiss,
Lost in a sea of stressful complications,
And searching for a life I seem to miss.
What can I do? I start with steady ground,
I learn to name the tension in my hand.
I seek the silver silence, newly found,
And draw a line within the shifting sand.
It takes a village, chemistry, and time,
To quiet down disbursements of the mind;
To find a rhythm and a simple rhyme,
And leave the cruelest phantoms far behind.
I am the girl beneath the storm and sun,
The person, not the stress or the disease.
The battle for the self is never done,
But I can learn to walk with inner peace.
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