A Tale For The Blind Poem by Blessing Kalamatila

I possess the eyes that only see the night at its peak, the darkness conceals my ability to see, yet my mind envisions a future with a less fraction of bleak.

Day by day, am in an effort to relent my fears with a faint hope of seeing the light of dawn, but end up repainting the misery of the pitch black i always see, which is evident that my fight is in void and my toil is just a mere call for tears.

See, my beingness is considered to be a curse,
but to that assumption i averse, so even if the voices that chatter in agreement saying I am visually impaired, I choose not to fall into thier snares, but rather be thankful even in my state as they focus on my affairs, like the stairs I will take a step of acceptance towards my transcendence.

The cross is in existence, so i will not sleep on the bed of condemnation and cover my self with a blanket of shame, neither will i accept the term 'blind' as my name but i will be seen as the emblem that God created sightless to you, but priceless in his view.