Insight Poem by Ima Ryma

I was blinded, taking a spill.
Maybe my vision would return.
Till then, I needed blindness skill.
I also needed help to learn.
A teacher came; her name was Flo.
As her student, I was no prize,
Repeating that she could not know
What it was like to have no eyes.
But, finally my pain gave way.
And Flo taught me the gift of grace.
My sight came back one summer day.
I turned and looked upon Flo's face.

She stared ahead with eyes so kind,
And I could see that Flo was blind.