colorblind artist

When I was little

I had a favorite crayon

It was a blue kind of color

But its name sounded like the meat my dad grilled

Sirloin. (it was cerulean)

Thats mostly why I liked it

I colored all my pictures with this crayon

And in my eyes

Every picture was beautiful

As I grew older

I saw what everyone else was coloring with

I wanted to be like them

They were praised for their colorful pictures

And so I began to use my entire box of crayons

I didn't like my pictures much.

They were never as good as Andrew's 

And everyone would laugh when they saw me try

I gave up using my entire box of crayons.

"Dear, why aren't you coloring your pictures for school"

"I don't like coloring", I would reply

I didn't want to be chastised again.

Instead I only colored when I could do so without others around

The nights I colored in secret

Alone

They changed my eyes

7 colors molded to one

Transforming into grays

Blacks

Whites

I'd wake up to a shadowed dusk

And fell asleep to the lifeless sunrise

When I saw the colorful drawings I once envied--

I was no longer jealous

Their colors had trimmed down to none

Maybe they'd transformed like me

Or maybe I just couldn't see..

I still hid in the dark.

But then you came along.

You with the bright smile

And the messy hair

You with the welcoming arms

You somehow sorted through my mess and found my hidden one-colored canvases

You told me they were beautiful.

I'm not sure why

But I believed you.

And somehow

You got me to color again

I drew and colored and scribbled

Everything I produced; a monotonous gray in my eyes

But you saw the color I thought didn't exist

I felt like all my canvases were useless scribbles

But you gave every line

Every curve

Every bend

Meaning

One day you let me see your art

You told me they weren't much to look at

Yet

I couldn't take my eyes of them

There was one picture in particular

Outlying your collected passions

One, that immediately drew me in

I saw something

A glint of childhood

A touch of comfort

A vision of every tattered page

And approval

It was a blue kind of color

The smell of steak and feel of laughter invaded my senses

A smile touched my lips as the word formed mid intake of my breath

You whispered in my ear

And took me in your arms

And you saw it happen

So this is for you

The one who inspired the colorblind artist to once again

See blue

~JQP