{"id":37136,"date":"2017-08-05T18:42:17","date_gmt":"2017-08-05T22:42:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=37136"},"modified":"2017-08-05T18:59:01","modified_gmt":"2017-08-05T22:59:01","slug":"belief-in-yellow","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2017\/08\/belief-in-yellow\/","title":{"rendered":"Belief in Yellow"},"content":{"rendered":"<pre>A glaze settled over her vision, tinting everything a murky brown.\r\nThis winter no longer seemed gray but the sepia tones of daguerrotype\r\nImages: old-fashioned, detached, sullen in the moment captured.\r\n\r\nSo many big fears had abated after the accident. \r\nStill, these small shifts of non-reality churned the dread\r\nThat life would be forever altered, halted, and haunted\r\nBy sensations beyond her control,\r\nHer own body turned against her.\r\n\r\nSuch a small decision made resolute in depth --\r\nA focus on color: just one.\r\nHer favorite color yellow would be her guide, symbol,\r\ntheme, subconscious influence, mantra, and promise of\r\nreturn\r\nBut where and how?\r\nA focus on what she new would hint of the brightness\r\nan egg yolk at morning\r\na daffodil delivered in the vase by her bed\r\nher favorite childhood doll now resting in her arms\r\nShe couldn't see the yellow, all muddled with everything else\r\nBut she knew it was there\r\nBelieved,\r\nLooked,\r\nImagined, and \r\nTrusted.\r\n\r\nOne day she asked for a break outdoors, \r\nwith the yellow sun in the bright blue sky she had asked about.\r\nBundled in blankets, her head gently nestled in full pillows,\r\nLoved ones next to her\r\nA nurse giddy to leave for a few minutes.\r\nShe felt the warmth soak onto her skin,\r\nHeard birds chirping in the clearness, and \r\nSmelled crisp air, so she knew the sun was yellow\r\nBelieved,\r\nLooked up,\r\nImagined, and \r\nTrusted.\r\n\r\nThe eyes danced with shapes and colors scattering,\r\nPulling in and out of focus,\r\nStrains of brightness striking new blows, and \r\nLittle by little the colors starting to come into focus.\r\n\r\nThe days she left, she felt the quiver of spring's chill \r\nIn the bottom of the breeze and a softer warmth for just a moment.\r\nWell, she didn't really, but she knew about spring winds, and she \r\nBelieved, \r\nOpen her arms, \r\nImagined, and \r\nTrusted.\r\n\r\nWere there two birds she heard sitting outside?\r\nWhat was the taste? Did she even know?  She could remember, and so she would\r\nWith each morning, then after the naps, and into the evening\r\nShe would assign what she knew to be true, \r\nBelieving,\r\nOpening her mind to remember,\r\nImagining, and\r\nTrusting.\r\n\r\nIt was when the blossoms came two months later,\r\nWhen the lavenders, lilacs, pinks, creams, and soft greens \r\nDappled together in whispered breezes\r\nAnd spread across her one day in the garden\r\nThat she again saw the yellow, shyly lifting in happiness and hope.\r\nThe brightness filled her, and she looked and looked and looked \r\nOnce more and always\r\nThrough soft tears of joy.<\/pre>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A glaze settled over her vision, tinting everything a murky brown. This winter no longer seemed gray but the sepia tones of daguerrotype Images: old-fashioned, detached, sullen in the moment captured. So many big fears had abated after the accident. Still, these small shifts of&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1019,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11,13],"tags":[2429,1173],"class_list":["post-37136","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem","category-miscellaneous","tag-colors-and-sensations","tag-half-marathon"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37136","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1019"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=37136"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37136\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":37416,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37136\/revisions\/37416"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=37136"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=37136"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=37136"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}