They said, 'Show us a rainbow'
And exactly, it was what he did
Though what is often forgotten so
That every bent prism seen above
Did surface from somewhere below
Each harvest reaped from a storm
They forget, nor did they even ask
What storms he rode alone inside
A badly colored boat, no less wind
And what, does color really matter
But everything, the essence of tides
His pale skiff, A symbol of breaking
The many have sapped his strength
That for carrying on, even further still
Wrestling, not one contained to mats
Only plainly before the world, A view
Into the deepest, darkest shadows
The heart, wildly forging against night
Eyes of hurricanes bring it to no silence
If an artist, he paints upon a canvas so
A picture of utter destruction, hell storms
There in the corner, amongst the black
Amidst all the brokenness, filled with red
Beating away, Until the easel does fall
Would it be, The answer to all earthly riddles
Triumphant, When all else comes undone
And each a key, with only one perfect fit
Don’t suppose I need to tell you now
The frequency, Those of forced corners bent
Some of which, They often stick softly
Or at least until the wind blows once more
Resilience, Amidst the Eye, Among foes
That whatever storm he is walking through
He, and God alone, know the reason why
People, They always look for rainbows
No one ever remembers, nor do they see
The brightest colors, birthed in agony
And still, he
promises a perfect rainbow
To whomever, she who walks with him
A courtship of hands through storms
