I want to be light
peaceful, calm,
a place where others can rest.
Light that brings color
to the world.
But I am color.
Not soft, not quiet.
I am movement,
intensity,
life.
Creative, multidisciplinary,
overflowing.
I want to be the person
who holds others
on their darkest days.
Not judgmental,
not heavy with pain,
just light,
just compassionate.
But I am passionate.
I feel deeply.
Maybe I am not meant
to be only light.
Maybe I am meant
to be both.
Still, I force myself
to be light
because it is better,
because it harms no one.
Sometimes I feel ashamed
of being color.
As if being vivid,
being passionate,
is too much.
As if my past
decides for me
who I could be.
Sometimes they think
I could be the other woman.
I would never be
because that is not
who I am.
I am okay
with being pain.
I am not okay
with bringing pain.
I am okay with being color,
and accepting who I am,
but part of me still wishes
I were less vivid.