S h a d o w s

They are everywhere:

creeping down streets,

weaving through crowds.

Tell me, how 

did you get to be this way? Lost

to the masses,

frozen, 

thawed, 

kneaded like play dough 

by a stranger’s hand, morphed

into this shapeless form,

colors withdrawn,

faces indistinguishable.

 

A painting of the world once so vibrant

muddles into a  depiction of gray.

The lines haze and blur as one

body ends and another begins.

With palettes of infinite hues,

why do we all paint the same shade?

Reviews

[Dana Ferguson]

I really liked this, this is a very thought provoking poem.

[BobM]

This is beautiful. I very rarely like free verse, but you convey your unique perceptions of shadows so well that I could not only overlook the lack of set meter and rhyme, buy thoroughly enjoy it. In particular, I thought the fifth line of the first stanza was incredible- leaving "Lost" after the question as an answer, as well as to begin the next idea, was brilliant.