Waking Up

Insubstantial, I'm surrounded in darkness. Soft, warm, embracing support, with a vague odor of....of me. Identifying my own natural scent lifts me up a level, closer to the surface. Sound is added to smell, a rustling of sheets and blankets. Up one more. Now there's a new sensation, cool air on...on my face. I am a body. I am solid, physical.

The color of pain

What color is pain? I wondered this when I stubbed my bare toe on the shower door today. After I finished hopping and cussing, that is. Dang, that hurts like a mutha!

White, I think. Stubbed toe pain is white. Like a lightning bolt. It should be called "stabbed" toe, given how it feels. A spike of white jabbing fire, followed by a roll of thunder up the foot and leg, all the way to the brain, which shorts out from the storm, temporarily.

Ow, ow, ow! (hop, hop, hop)

As I adjust my position in the chair, I feel the pain of overworked muscles. Orange. Orange and stringy, grabbing my attempts to move and pulling me up short with a smirk.

"Silly woman. Serves you right."

Childbirth. Maroon. The color of blood, of course, but more than that. A deep, rich, steady color. Earthy, like life itself, like the gooey wiggly thing you're squeezing out. Deeper, more profound than any pain you've ever felt. It takes hold all the way to your roots. Pressure at the molecular level.

There are streaks of gold there too.

February 26, 2006