The Rainbow Canvas
I painted the bridge of a rainbow with all the swirls of colors I could unearth. I did not leave out the white of the canvas.
But they shook their heads. They were unhappy with the blank spaces.
“You’re missing something.”
They took the paintbrush and painted over it into a swirling into a mash of gray, a whirlpool sucking into all the colors. The violets screamed, the blues drowned, the reds singed, the yellows cried. I held back my protests.
“Done, better.” they chimed.
The gray fashioned clouds, pregnant with a storm. When the storm fell, the gray dissipated into mist in all its transparency.
They wrapped themselves in their blankets, coats, and parasols.
But the others, shivered in their soaked T-shirts and secondhand rags.
Still, they didn’t let gray go to waste. Those shivering built another bridge of a rainbow from the grayness.