Colour-Coded Freedom



Until the morning’s dazzle,

she never knew the night

had stripped her eyes

of the ability to perceive colour,


and her blindness did not

offend. She groped and

cursed and stumbled

but assumed that all


of life was grey, tinted

with shadowy brush.

She didn’t even know

she was purple; to see


herself in sunshine

is a delicious shock.

She inhales the

rainbow feast of it


all and her dreams

are Technicolor,

Northern Lights

dancing to an internal


spectrum, ribbons curled

in amethyst flourish. She

thinks this colour-coded

freedom might be – joy.