Note: this is not my piece of poetry. It belongs to an 8th grade student of mine, who was in my class last year. He wrote this in response to the prompt: “Describe colors to a blind man.” When he read it aloud, it took my breath away and a collective gasp was heard from the audience. Remember, he is only 13.
I found a blind man one day while walking in the park.
he stopped me and asked, “What is color?”
I stared at his blank eyes and spoke,
“The deep sound of a trumpet is red,
the gurgle of water from a spout is a light blue sky.
The dark moans of a funeral is black,
and the rustle of a tree’s leaves is green.
The cold touch of frozen metal is gray,
the raindrops falling all around you is a purple haze,
and the dull side of a blade scraping across your skin is yellow.”
He was quiet, and as I stood he turned to face me and said,
“I have heard and felt all those things before, and never given them a thought,
but now I can see the colors, plain as day.”
I smiled as I walked away.
(PS: He also took top honors at the district’s recent Power of the Pen competition.)