The Magic Of Color Poem by Lily Ives

I recount that moment in the shower
when I was a blank white on white.
I was barely visible against the white
backdrop of the shower curtain.
The light illuminated the contours
of my face, and body in pale shadows,
as I turned to face myself with a gentle smile,
soft as a dove's feather, and eyes,   
that glistened like blue Larimars in tender surrender.

The shower head bled a rainbow of colour.
Each hue dripped down my face and painted me softly
in yellow, orange, red, green and blue.
I tenderly lathered with my fingertips,
the burst of colour over my arms,   
breast and hips.

Each pigment danced
in conscious search of a narrative,
amongst the grooves of my skin,
and in a flurry of silks weaved
into golden ivory gossamers,
and an embroidered patch of mauve velvet lips.

A surge of electricity ran through my body
as a violent stream of dawn,
poured over my flesh in violet and indigo,
and my soul awoke in the twilight zone.

Shivering and cold,
I knelt on the floor.
Humbled and in awe
of the knowledge;
that all souls are born
between darkness and daylight,
in a blank body of white on white,
painted by life, and brought to light
in sin, and good deed.