Synesthesia

There is a condition called synesthesia

It’s a perceptual phenomenon

That involves the connection between the senses

There are a multitude of different forms

But one thing is agreed upon

No one know what causes it

My particular brand of sensory synthesis

Includes pictures and colors for words and concepts

And for every person I know well enough

There is a unique shade that appears in my mind

I made a new friend recently

Who asked if they had a color

This friend is dark green

Like the darkest shades of a forest

When looking from the outside

My dark green friend

Seems to like stories just as much as I do

My sister is rich golden orange

Like the brightest moments of the sunset

She sees colors like I do and plays cello beautifully

My best friend is periwinkle

That color no one can figure out

This is a fitting description

My periwinkle friend uses strange phrases

That become part of my vocabulary against my will

The wisest person I know is lime green

Like the wrapper of so many candies

I’m not brave enough to try

My lime green friend tries them all

and is also 9 years old

My mother is deep red

Like the bricks used to build walls

Or to create aesthetically pleasing facades over cinder blocks

My father is greenish grey

Like a monument once crisp and clean

But now aged and weathered

My brother is dark grey

Like smoke coming from a billowing fire

It could be just the fireplace, or it could be a wildfire

Both dangerous if you get too close

The word peace is a grey blue storm

Clouds rolling over a vast expanse of water

Thunder billowing in the distance

The word love is the golden glow of fire

Beauty and destruction

Daring you to just try and look away

The word pain is the shining black of cold charcoal

When the final ember has gone out

And everyone decides it’s time to walk away

The word hope is the soft yellow of a single sunbeam

Daring to shine through the canopy of clouds

And saying that maybe if I could reach

The place where that ray of light is hitting

Everything might actually be okay

The word joy is the rich brown of coffee

Or the wood of a rocking chair

Where one could simply sit and sip

And watch the contentment of others

The word faith is the deep blue of the ocean

Where the end and bottom are both unseen

And yet they must exist

The word forever is the soft white of freshly fallen snow

The concept of the millions of tiny flakes

needed to create that moment

Is completely incomprehensible

yet we can see and touch the evidence

The word goodbye and the word hello

Are both the hazy indigo of twilight and dawn

Hello and goodbye are the same color

Because if you think about it

The only difference between the two

Is the time at which you choose to use them

Everyone in my life is a color

Each word a shade and a story

I am purple

I have not yet figured out why

But in my mind, I see a rainbow

Streaked and stamped with each of the people

who have left a drop, drawn a line, or filled a space

on this

my watercolor heart