the weight of grey

I woke up two mornings ago feeling lit inside to out. Honey on the window sill. But slow, steady the day flattened me as if shadow could be weighed. I went outside to make sense of it. To pick those places that would redeem my surroundings, choose to look there instead while Ugly yelled threats, taunting behind me. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction but everything, everything within me wanted to turn away from what was small and helpful back towards that scoffing, damp, squelchy Thing. Agree with his despair, admit defeat. Yes, I would say, all of it is terrible. There's no way I can survive. And I did say it and I died a little. Fought to use the camera like a bandage and kept searching for beauty. And it was a fight, no doubt about it. I got beat up good. I made it but I wouldn't say I won. Clutched to these as proof something could, indeed always can be found.

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