finding myself in quarantine

have you ever heard a silent mind?

the constant internal chatter simply hushed,

the tik tik tik-ing turned tranquil,

the doubt that runs after every positive thought—stopped still?

i have the luxury of listening to this silence

on my daily walk at sunset.

a glint of golden light flickers off my lash,

the same light that makes everything look like it was dipped in the sun, like honey.

pearly clouds float as if they’re fresh off the tip

of God’s paintbrush.

gently catch colors into their wisps,

the world is filtered with psychedelic hues.

and for a moment, as i reach the peak of the trail

with the magnificent view of the purple mountains

that cradled me as i grew up,

i pull out my canvas and start to paint.

i paint me the creative.

colors that i see in every name, every number, every notion.

colors hardwired into my brain; synesthesia, they call it.

i paint me an optimist.

bright eyes that dart around,

the dark iris follows the light

like a magnet of positivity

i paint me the laughter erupting when i tell a joke,

the smile that starts at the corner of the mouth

and unzips it until all of your pearly whites gleam

and i receive affirmation of your joy.

and as i paint, i learn to erase the dull,

gray life that i clung to.

the life i tried to justify

by describing gray as a color, too.

i erase the sharp edges,

the rigid, hollow bones.

the body that i carved out to take up as little space as possible

in this vast universe that tempts me to burn big and bright.

i erase the trauma

for it has not shaped me

but rather repelled me from my antithesis.

each experience that pains me also teaches me.

how to tend to a wound.

i erase the calculation

because binary is for robots.

and though i believe the universe to be a machine

i believe myself to be its soul.

do you know what happens when the mind goes quiet?

you hear the girl inside.

and you can paint her into your world now.