It’s like you’re colorblind . . .
You see the world come alive for the first time.
The vibrancy, the variation, the depth
You think back and say,
“I can’t believe people saw life like this every day!”
Or blurry vision.
You put on the glasses, and are stunned
Individual blades of grass!
The wrinkles around smiling eyes.
Vision progressively clearer,
The lens refined.
But as we zoom in on a mutilated soldier
Howling in pain, body torn as if greedily ripped apart by jackals
There is no option to blur
Or to block out the blackened crimson that collects in a puddle ‘round your feet.
At this some say, “You can have your blades of grass”
But for others, there is no turning back.
Whether curse or blessing, or perhaps both
They must carry the sight
To see beyond, to see within
To lead to new horizon