The Soul's Palette Poem by Wendy Moravec

My soul is a palette
Consisting of a myriad of colors
Some sit still and alone,
Removed from all the others.
Some intermingle with each other,
Forming a bond of new color.
The black paint is my desolation,
A stain on my soul.
The crimson red in my fire and heart,
A red so deep, it pulses with life,
Running across the palette like the blood in my veins.
The yellow is my happiness,
A small dab, darkened with black,
Shading those few happy moments.
The green is my honor,
Shaded with self-doubt and confusion,
And the blue is my shyness,
Lightened only by time.
The white is my purity,
Wholesome and smooth,
It’s stark innocence,
Blinding those around me.
There are too many colors in my soul to name,
But each hold a special part.
A part that makes me, ME.