If could you make me
Into a colour or tone,
I know that it would be
The colour of woad.
Soft indigo faded,
Made strong in a vat;
And being distilled from
The waving fronds of a plant,
In the swirling mixture, it would seem
To be a heady shade of green,
But expose it to the air above,
The faithful colour will be seen.
This blue is what I am -
Used once by warriors strong,
To paint their bodies
For war and to belong.
Find me there;
In that pigment from another time,
Find me in the soft blue prose,
In the lonely indigo rhyme.