Colorblind

Blindfold game 2 | by Lee Carson

I am colorblind. 

I am blind to your colors.

Your shades, your nuances, your reflection. 

I don’t see your color,

Because I don’t see you.

Invisible.

Erased.

Nothing to contribute, nothing to give.

Peoples without histories. 

Peoples without names.

Unseen because I am blind to other colors.

We are all the same. 

As you thrive and scratch and wrestle,

Gasping for air to breath, to exist.

Screaming that we are not all the same.

But I can’t hear you.

I can’t see our differences.

I am colorblind. 

I cannot see the crimson blood of the wounds on your soul. 

I cannot see the taupe scars left from still tender sores. 

Wounds inflicted because of your color do not exist. 

Because I am colorblind.

I am colorblind.

I cannot see my own blindness.

I cannot see my shades, nuances, and reflections. 

I cannot see my own history.

I’d rather stay colorblind.