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The Color of Love

When I was growing up, I had no idea what prejudice meant!

I still don’t know how to spell the word!

When I grew up in my neighborhood,

there were no angry people feeling all upset over life,

defiantly waving their causes in the faces of a different color.

I was color blind when I was growing up.

Without knowing this,

life was just fine and unlimited.

I am proudly still color blind!

I do not see the color of disadvantage.

 

I love the differences in our skin tones.

I love the variations of every single person.

Wow! What beautiful dark skin, all shiny and perfect.
What beautiful porcelain holding up that incredible strawberry hair!

What a wonderful coffee and cream mixture so sweet it dances.

What a wonderful mottled abstract canvas of all of us!

What a wonderful absence of color, as in color blind.

I do not see the color of separation.

 

I have missing cones in my eyes!

I cannot see colors equally, so I am told; how would I know?

I am gifted without seeing separations because of skin tone.

I am blessed knowing beauty on the outside is our individual gift.

I am wise enough to know inside these variations

we are equal given equal opportunity.

I do not see the color of in-equality.

 

My color blindness is normal to me.

I have never been without it!

In the second grade we all learned

the 3rd dot from the right is the color red,

the 4th dot was blue, and the 5th dot is yellow.

No matter how I see color, it has a name.

We all agreed to name the dots red, blue, yellow, black and white.

There are websites to show you what I see,

but none can show me what you see.

I do not see the color of differences.

 
All the children who have helped me grow
have allowed me see their unique colors,
and all their children, have different tones,
from very white to very black,
and I love them all the same,
and I love them for their differences.

I do not see the color of judgment.

I do see the Color of Love.

Peter Burt Lauridsen  Revised August 29th 2016

These words came rushing across the page after Michael Brown was killed and the 2014 Ferguson, Missouri, tragedy started a chain of reaction still unfolding.

I have been color blind my entire life, knowing we are all equal before society separated us. However, the more research, the more I learn it is the nature of Homo sapiens to be tribal separatists. Someone said sixty years ago, the only way we will become one is to mix all the colors together so we all blend in.

However in the meantime, I have been privileged to be color blind.

While my granddaughter read out loud, I was transfixed with this almost six year old resting on my right arm, reading far beyond her years, words I had written without a thought of this precious child. She read these words with a few hesitation and questions, understanding my responses as if an equal. I have more than my share of genius children without any genetics from me. I have been included in their lives by our choice and/or divine guidance, or merely a chance at random paths crossing.  "There are no accidents ... " 

Today, September 21st 2016, another young man came and went, leaving us both knowing we had a destiny meeting while we were making other plans. It seems the Color of Love transcends all labels, and my grand daughters' reading brings generations to the knee, with tears of joy flowing with Love.

Please Share them any and every way you can.