Gray

Salem thinks I exist in purple -
the multitude shades of it,
feminine soft lilac
bold, saucy plum
for I drape myself in them -
but i don’t …

I exist in the gray.

The middle ground, neither one or the other;
proud of not being pure but of being true.
Knowing in its different shades
I’m not lost in the dark,
not lost in unhealthy extremes.
Unlike newspaper, life is not black or white;
it is the two coexisting.
Note the early photographs -
how our past, our ancestors are exposed
in the mingle of light & dark,
their features, their angles, their shadows;
character defined within the grays.
There is despair there in the black,
stark severity in the white
But in the gray is their dreams, their fears -
There is hope there.

So don’t label me Republican
Democrat
Business
Tree hugger
Religious fanatic,
Atheist
Pro-Life
Pro-choice.
Don’t paint me with a broad brush,
don’t paint me with color -
for it will not capture the truth.
To see me, take my photograph
distill it down to the abstract , to the concrete;
I will be exposed where they merge.
No man on the street.
No soundbyte of the day.
My gray silhouette is my own.