Lenses

How do the illiterate interpret poetry?
Words on a page, pushed together into words
Written to invoke emotion
To lift you up, to weigh you down
To make you think
Must be only scribbles.

If you were colorblind, what to you would be a masterpiece?
Swirling colors, vibrant hues
That millions stand in awe at
Appreciate its beauty
Gaze at its sights
Must be only a mirrored reflection of the dull-shaded world.

What is music to the deaf?
Symphonies of sounds
Rich voices harmonizing
Can turn your life upside down
Or your world over
Must be only silence.

To be normal is to be privileged
To read words carrying such weight
To view everything in full color
To hear sounds so incredible we feel like floating
To see the world through our lenses
But with our lenses come emotions
With our lenses comes joy, comes sorrow, comes fear, comes surprise
Comes envy.

For what is a book to a genius?
I see a plot twist, do you see a hole in the plot?
I laugh at a joke, do you know the first person to tell it?
I gasp when a character dies, do you know the death was faked?

And what is a rainbow to a tetrachromatic?
A foreign mix of purple and blue that you’re used to?
No, because that would be indigo, or to you, is it just another one of the basics?
Do you look down and scoff at the average because we think our clothes match?

Do those with Synthesia all love music?
Do you scroll through the Top 100 to enjoy a light show?
Laugh at the auroras, for swirling colors invade your world on the daily?

Rose-tinted glasses often dissipate before us as we realize other lenses are magenta.