Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2015 04 11 Poetry: Doorstep April 11, 2015

Hi again. Miss me much? grin

Like I was saying, I goofed somewhere along the line, and this is the second post of the day. It catches me up where I should be, at a post a day, but, well, oh well.

When I first lost my sight in 2010, my world changed in a number of different ways. At first, all the different ways were dreadful and awful and ways I didn’t care to take any part with. I just couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life without sight. No sight? No way, no how! It just wasn’t for me.

It was a few weeks before my attitude changed, and with it, my whole outlook on the rest of my life, which I had forgotten could only happen one day at a time. Sometimes, one hour, or one minute, or even one second at a time, but until I realized that I had no power over what happened to me, I then started working on things that I could change, and they all revolved around, through and inside me. Little old me, and nothing else.

I am here today to tell you that although I have many relatively good days, I still have those days that I could do without.

And again, I lean toward those familiar words telling me that I need to start with me, and things will eventually work into some sort of directional flow that I can manage working with.

It ain’t easy, but what worthwhile is?

With each day comes a new opportunity to live, to learn, to work hard and to grow. With each step comes a new challenge, and although the challenges never stop, the method I use to take on these challenges determines how much dust is settling down on the other side.

I wrote this poem rather quickly a week or so ago. It jumped out onto the screen for a reason, and as I read it back, it became clear to me that there are many reasons that I write what I write.

Thanks for stopping by, once again. I really appreciate the comments I have received these past few days, weeks, months and years. It is humbling to say the least and words can’t describe how much gain I have experienced from your help, guidance and chocolate.

Take it easy, and here we go again.

***

Doorstep

Staring through the open door, I try to find the horizon.
Tender warmth from the morning sun lights up a smile on my face.
I breathe in deep and shift my weight from one foot to the other.
Stepping through the door, a rush of anticipation scurries up my spine.
The possibilities of another day speak softly in my ear.
Eagerly, I clench my cane and tap along the doorstep.
Again I breathe deep as familiar sounds fill the morning air.
School bells to the south, dogs barking to the north, train whistle ahead to the east.
A cool wind from the west twists slowly through the silver maple leaves.
Again I tap the tip of my cane along the doorstep.
With head high and shoulders back, I step ahead into the morn.
A new day wrapped in a new beginning slowly constructs my past.
Left by right, step by step, I follow my sweep.
Concrete markers guide the taps of my cane further away from home.
An endless path of possibilities coaxes my shoes through the day.
The sun climbs, the mind calculates, the world turns as the journey continues.

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One Response to “2015 04 11 Poetry: Doorstep”


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