Once I woke up in the dark and thought I was blind. There was no light at all. There's always some light.
Blind, I was calm in that perfect dark. Friends would come, and I'd tell them what they had to do. It would be all right.
I'd go back home, but dignified, and I'd know my way perfectly in the house, even on the streets. I'd only been gone a few years.
I'd have them read me strange books, and they'd love my strangeness, thinking this is what it was, we knew there was something. They'd loved it a little already.
There at home in my great dark I'd find a single purpose, and begin.
But you know this: the light came.
Don't laugh at me. I live with so little blindness. Such a long way I've come. So little blindness.
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Comments about this poem (My Blindness by Eric Torgersen )
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