by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

Created on: February 26, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

I woke up this morning thinking, WHERE ARE MY RAINBOWS?!

I just want to know that there is an open possibility of seeing rainbows each and every day, maybe every second, ya know? I realize it is all within my own power, I merely need to obtain an objective viewpoint and spirit. I wake up each day with the same potential as the guy in a grey flannel suit..hummm... I take that back, perhaps not 'every' potential. Get a grip I think. Unfold the daylight and meet the goals I've set. OK... right after this poem.

"Solace and Consolation"

Chaos and distortion
I met my motivation for recovery
'Twas bolted on the doorway.
I muttered
don't bother waiting
or complain of irritations
I paint over all gilded cages.

I force my fingers to make a fist
but oh
they refuse to bend
However will I recover?

Yet there beside the light
cheese and wine are served.
What a lovely opening...
the doorway I mean
the one with bolted breaths
you remember that show?

I stood there in my mind
my compliments to the shadow.
Red was not on my palette
I reached for other colors
they simply refused their mark.

I will take your objections
clearly.
I will point towards sleeping giants
wrap up their fingers
just like mine
and wait.

Twist your arm
Hold a hammer with your muted hand.
There is nothing charming about this wall I said.
There is nothing here to keep me amused.
I am board with it.
I want to say I am finished
and have you agree.

Pastel...
your breath I mean.
What could you have been thinking?
I have all these boxes still
portions set in a line.
Put your two hands close together
and pretend them to be mine.
You might be disappointed.
There is no solace
no consolation in getting it right
no matter how soft the colors return to you.

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