Blindness Threatens

I open my eyes and look to the dark,

thick coils swirl across the vague lit 

ceiling of my changing eyesight and

I imagine all sorts of things are there

floating just outside my vision’s night.


I wonder at the others who lie awake

and test their eyes against the lies of

day, and see through their minds a 

host of many hued delights they love,

playing there just by their bedsides. 


My heart is churning thinking of all

the life I love, my need to see my

beloved and my children and       theirs;

and the pillow damp with tears; hid

from those kind seeing eyes longing


to help, find a cure, seek a way to

teach, braille, train me to see what

I can, for a long as I might but still

the drop falls and the night palls

and fear grows with the coming light.


Mine staved off for now but for others

the grey mist falls. And a white stick

calls so that they might walk amongst

the living and feel the grief of the toil

that boils in rage at the injustice of it all.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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