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 15 Poetry: Blessed April 15, 2015

Well here we are on the 15th of April, and don’t look now, but we’re halfway to May. As we live, the time flows by, like a river flowing to the sea. It doesn’t care where it’s been. It doesn’t care where it’s going. It doesn’t wonder what’s around the next bend. It just flows and flows and flows, and there isn’t anything more natural on God’s green earth.

Rivers? Water? Where the heck am I going with this?

Hmm? You don’t know either? OK, then I guess we’ll move on.

As you know by now, unless you’re stopping by for the first time, I am blind since 2010. I lost my vision due to lifelong complications I have been dealing with from a bout I waged with infancy retinal cancer. I lost an eye back then, at the ripe old age of five months, but kept vision in my other eye for nearly fifty years, with graces handed down from on high. I saw a lot, worked a lot, lived a lot, played a lot and without saying, I have a lot to feel blessed about.

Don’t get me wrong though, as these last five years have been a crazy ride, with extreme highs and pulverizing lows that hand me my humility every single day. I don’t like being blind, but I am none the less. I have written many pieces on vision loss, and it has been a great source of strength and growth for me to be able to look back on them and reflect where I was, what I went through, and what lies in front of me.

The following poem I wrote last night. I wrote it rather quickly, but that’s how I write a lot of things. It is what it is. It’s what was inside of me at the time I wrote it. It meant something different to me as I read it back tonight, and if I read it tomorrow, it will probably mean something else. That’s what’s so great about writing, it stays the same, but it is always changing, as are we.

Thanks again for stopping by. Feel free to leave a comment. I love critique of all forms and welcome them with optimism and thanks. There’s growth out there wherever you look, and if you look long enough, the blessings start piling in.

Take care, and thanks.

Deon***

Blessed

I close my eyes, but what’s the sense.
The view is just the same.
The flashing lights are an imaginary show.
The obscure, colored arrangements saunter by, smile, then wave goodbye.

I woke up from a dream and I thought I could see.
For a moment or two, I thought I could see.
The color of my arm was right in front of me.
The color of the bedroom wall was right in front of me.
The windows shape had its familiar edge.
The lines of the pine boards whispered hello.
It was all right there, in front of me.
Everything was perfect, and it was right in front of me.
Everything was perfect, but then everything changed.

I clutched at the visions with all my might.
I begged the colors to stay.
I held my breath, and prayed.

The color of my arm faded to a dull grey, then disappeared.
The windows sank back into their murky whirlpool.
The color of the wall drifted back through the hours of yesterday.
The unwanted blackness crept back in through the morning breeze.

I realized that I was blind, once again.

I still see things in my mind.
I still remember.
I still feel.
I will forever dream.
The memories keep me company through the day.
The songs carry my emotions.
The sounds have found a home.
The warm and comforting feeling of love closes in from all around,
And for another day,
I am blessed.

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One Response to “2015 04 15 Poetry: Blessed”

  1. Deon, I think a lot of your poems can stand on their own. Next time, consider posting just the poem without the narrative above it.


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