For a long time, or maybe
just a moment,
everything is black.
I squint until static tessellates
my eyes, but the hum
does not compete with the nothingness.
A foreign sound
no louder than a whisper,
rolling like voiceless thunder.
I follow without direction until
the black is gray, and the gray is blue.
The blue held no sadness.
It wasn’t cold. It was calm and
shimmering and bluer than any other.
I reached out a hand,
grabbing at the almost tangible hue.
A million bubbles
and my head bobs above
the placid surface of a lake
like a dizzy cork.
How blue the sky looked from there.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.