• Marian Glaser


By Marian Glaser © (September, 2004)

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To survive this sometimes bleak existence and resist

its insidious erosion, I need more affirmation than most.

Remembered, symbolic and real rainbows surround me,

helping me with their utter independence and objective

beauty to stay fully human even when treated as a thing,

an obstacle or ignored while workers amuse each other.

A CD lying on my computer desk splits light and reflects

a circular rainbow on the ceiling, reminding me of a story

told me about a circular one in China. People travel far

for its good luck. It complements my lucky bamboo.

Gas made rain puddles shine with colours. The acid greens

were deeper than any lawn, field or tree. I’ve seen fly wings

and pigeons’ throats iridesce in sunlight and daydreamed

about a forest pool full of swirling colours.

I have seen the Biblical peace message as a wedding symbol.

I hear songs where rainbows promise finds of love or money,

offering paradise in some improbable

future while I have it here, now,

in this rainbowed room when

my door is shut to exclude

negative energy.

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