Pride

A poem I composed in the summer and then hid away to fight the cold. Or maybe I just forgot about it.

What if the rainbow’s not enough?
What if it isn’t right?
Earlier today, I saw a cloud splashed with color: a rainbow in the making.
But now here at the annual
celebration, I see the sun setting
over a fountain and there is only
the uniform, monochrome white.
Here, at the height of Pride,
in the summer of our discontent,
there is no need for the separation of colors.
We want them bleeding together,
breeding together their myths.
Separation is not what we gather here for.
We come here to be together,
a great single family
in the light.