Where the Colors Return

We cannot see our way out.
It is too dark – or rather, too
light, so light we've saturated
our eyes, blinded our minds.
We're in too deep – or up too
high, so high we've lost the
feel for the ground underfoot.
We will likely have to crawl
to a saner place than this one,
plod on hands and knees to a
point where the colors return –
or perhaps they never left –
where we can smell in the soil
sifting through our fingers the
ochre, the amber, the indigo,
the vermillion, and the sage.