I have to say
that this sucks.
I do not like to be invisible
to one I love
who can’t see in my range of colours,
as if I partly live
in infrared or some delta state
off his radar.
This rainbow that I only partly see
myself
needs sun and water both,
needs a watcher on his knees to bathe in colour,
flash back his own brilliance
in a symphony of communication.
Too long I have settled
for the soft pastels of evening
or the solo sunrise,
the gratitude of our days
warming the dark clouds where a pale arc glimmers.
Too long I have waited
for a dawning recognition,
a sensitivity to energy unseen,
the sound of music not heard with ears.
Too long I have feared
the demands of my desire,
the way I am afraid
of my own need,
the way I am afraid
that the deep hole of my longing
will never be filled.
I have no words
for ending this poem,
only the terrifying soft knowledge
that rainbows have no substance.