Sunday poetry

As You Solo in the Bright Colors of the Rainbow

forget that previous tune you heard
the one with the tinsel
hung about throughout
and the ornaments
here is a new tune
it is raw
biting like a red pepper
hot upon the tongue
you will taste its shattering impact
ring in your ear
somewhat the same as
startling sirens
all at once blasting
early sunday morning
as you lie half awake and unsuspecting
this tune will come crashing
will pierce your ears
wound you
you will stick your finger in the hole
to stop the bleeding
but the wound will suck in
your finger
your hand
your arm
all of you
until the question
"am i anyone?"
hangs over your head
haunts you like the gleaming eyes
of a dead horse hanging
and this time you will know
and remember
the pain of being born
this is what takes place
i have felt it in my own face
when one's long held belief
is shaken loose by the impact
of reality's iron ball
it unsettles you
undermines your foundation
leaves you cracked and unsure
until you grasp the meanings
toss away the old feelings
and plant yourself upon a new base
gaze toward a sunny and bright sky
delight in the opening of your eyes
believing something now
because it makes sense
instead of your prior standing behind the fence
of others' thoughts which
you were brought up to believe
is it so easy to be dead
and lying in the midst of myths
and so hard
don't you know
like spitting this high note from the horn
but so pretty
to be reborn.

~ David Rice