There was once
someone who made
without ever seeing
what it was

They could draw
they could paint
they could write
but they never saw what others did
when they looked at it

Some called it horrifying
some called it beautiful
some called it sad
and some simply called it true

For when you can't see
what have you
to filter the things you hear
all around you

Rumors of war get turned
into drawings of harsh lines
the sound of explosions
captured on paper in color

Words of love
a soft shape that spirals
on and on and down and down
over and over because "I'll love you forever"

The hate too, they made into art
The words thrown at them
written down
and then drawn over
harsh and angry lines
that cut through the paper

They painted on walls
drew in the margins
wrote where they could
but they were always creating

From love to grief
and the sound of birds to breaking glass
they made what they could
and always it was true

Maybe it couldn't be clear
to those still blinded by sight
but it was real and maybe
that was enough

For they didn't create
to prove a point
or make someone see
they created to feel

You don't need to see
in order to feel
the earth under your feet
or the winds in your hair

You can hear their laughter
and you can hear their hate
you don't need to see
to know what they think

So maybe sometime
stop and close your eyes
and open yourself
to the world of sound