Wemmy Ogunyankin: If Our Eyes Were Closed

Many thanks to Wemmy for sharing this beautiful poem with us. Wemmy is currently attending Connected Worlds' The Way I Flourish course and wrote this amazing piece in one of the workshops.

Wemmy Ogunyankin photo

Wemmy is a Creative Copywriter passionate about exploring the power of words, images and their stories. She loves telling a story almost as much as she enjoys experiencing one.

Wemmy Ogunyankin: If Our Eyes Were Closed
If Our Eyes Were Closed

If I first looked at you with my eyes closed. What would I have seen? What would I have felt?
Would I have felt the deepness of your voice? Your whiteness, your power.
Would I have felt the social hierarchy, the ground at the bottom of this triangle?
Or would I have truly seen your vulnerability? Felt your warmth and explored your openness.

Would I have seen the lessons you’ve learnt, the journey you had in life that’s brought you to me?
Would I have felt the love in your kind eyes or would I have missed it like I did when my eyes were open.
Now my eyes are closed and my heart is open, I’m seeing what I missed.

And what about you? Lady over there!

If you first looked at me with your eyes closed. What would you have seen? What would you have felt?
Would you have felt your fear and “intimidation”? My Blackness, my power.
From all the way down here… at the bottom of your social triangle.
Or would you have truly seen my kindness. Felt my warmth and explored my awkwardness.

Heard the stories that were well spoken, but still missed with your eyes wide open.
Would you understand what’s brought me to you? Because you struggled when your eyes were open.
Now, listen with them closed and see with your heart open.
You see?

Are you understanding what you’ve missed?

Related Stories

A moody mountain landscape

James Poulter: Psychosis

Psychosis Untethered from my past and cast adrift I reach for the profound and loose footing on the earth Unable...

a room in a home

Poem: Another Morning

Another Morning Another morning just waking up to a sense of dread Mist fogs my view of the mirror Who...