Color Blind In Northern Spring

They told me before I left the south Son, the snow gets kind of dirty down here And eyes find a fence against the glare But boy, I see you hankering to go out And your face be turned north for its spring And your heart beats after the birds on wing You long to go where cageless a man can sing But remember in any mountain the bear's king. You should have seen me the first I saw snow White and unblemished, my faith fluttered high I could not stop staring at the thing if I did try The light rose from it and seared me in its glow My vision shattered like glass, too small to cut The rope dangling above that pit in my gut And then I looked till liberty was like a **** And I was old tom shuffling to peace in my hut I saw the skin's color, alright. The bloodless snow But I did not see that nature is deeper than skin Or that innocence must precede each coming sin When the eyes were wide shut, could I still know? I was blinded by the light to believe some drop of it Was still so good, and then captured by the spirit I felt I should, to some egalitarian faith, commit Since deep dark is like looking at close and brightly lit In neither can one tell red from brown, or green From blue, but I have how even shapes disappear When the white feathers of frost are strewn here, There and everywhere: the snow swallows the stare Of my man who cannot feel the wilderness cold Seeping through cramps and feet, no sunset gold, No rust of morning, nor dark of night, we can hold One beam of faith to support the brightly blinded soul.