I have synesthesia.
But, instead of seeing sound
or hearing color
-which results from cross-talk between
auditory and visual neurons-
…I see pain.
.
Through some accidental quirk of nature,
my right supramarginal gyrus,
the empathy “center” of the human brain,
has strong connections to my visual cortex.
When someone is in pain,
I see waves of iridescent crimson
radiating from the person.
.
When I was a boy,
a friend of mine fell off his bike,
and skinned his knee.
I tried to clean up the blood,
but it kept flowing,
in wave after sanguine wave.
It wasn’t until later,
at the neurologist,
I realized I was seeing more than the physical wound,
but the emotional trauma as well.
.
Yesterday,
I walked through Baltimore.
I could barely see through the crimson haze.
Emanating from the chests
of those who marched
was a dull red, pulsing tired.
This hurt was not the sharp scarlet
of intense immediate pain-
No.
This suffering ached ruby from years of being held inside.
This pain turned the air florid with anguish,
and suffused the very streets with vermillion.
Yesterday,
I walked through a city in agony.
.
When I came home
and saw the riots on the news
(which I saw none of in the 10,000 strong protest downtown)
I saw the white pundits,
on their alabaster thrones,
cool and emerald in their calmness,
in their analgesic world,
piously decrying the protestors-
citing damage to nerveless properties.
I wish I could show them Baltimore
through my eyes,
point out the rubies of torment in their hearts,
the aching ruddy hue painting the city.
I wish they could see all the shades of red
I see, when I look at Baltimore.