Tag Archives: blindness

Unrequited

30 Nov

by Valerie Moreno

I stand alone

shivering in chilly,

condescending winds of

unacceptance.

 

You are “too busy”

to give me a chance,

look at me as a

person instead of a

symbol of blindness.

 

You won’t meet me

half-way, I feel it

like a hard slap against my cheek.

 

Rejection stings for a time,

reminding me to appreciate my self…

Again, I gather my strength,

assess my ability,

believing someone wiser will

accept who I am.

But know everything lost will be recovered

when you drift in to the arms

of the undiscovered

Valerie Moreno is 59 and a published writer. She writes poetry, memoir, fiction and articles. Her eye disease is ROP (Retinopathy of Prematurity. Some favorite hobbies include reading, raised line drawing, music and singing.

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Unrequited

26 Sep

by Valerie Moreno

I stand alone

shivering in chilly,

condescending winds of

unacceptance.

 

You are “too busy”

to give me a chance,

look at me as a

person instead of a

symbol of blindness.

 

You won’t meet me

half-way, I feel it

like a hard slap against my cheek.

Rejection stings for a time,

reminding me to appreciate my self…

 

Again, I gather my strength,

assess my ability,

believing someone wiser will

 accept who I am.

 

Valerie Moreno is 59 and a published writer. She writes poetry, memoir, fiction and articles. Her eye disease is ROP (Retinopathy of Prematurity. Some favorite hobbies include reading, raised line drawing, music and singing.

Though I’ve Never Seen

20 Jun

by Sharon Tewksbury

I’ve never seen snowflakes or sleet,

I’ve never seen a baby sleep,

I’ve never seen a sky of blue,

Or saw a rose kissed by the dew.

But I’ve heard the robin’s song so gay,

I’ve heard a baby laugh at play,

I’ve touched a rose I’ve smelled the dew,

I’ve touched soft grass, smelled spring rain too.

I’ve never seen the clouds of white,

Nor saw the moon or starry light,

But I’ve sat in autumn’s sacred night,

And heard the geese in chevron flight.

I’ve never seen an eagle soar,

But I’ve stood and heard the ocean’s roar,

I’ve felt its trade winds on my face,

Tasted its salt, and felt its sprays.

I’ve never seen a morning dawn,

Or the colors of a sunset gone,

But I’ve felt the sun, heard dawn birds sing,

Heard evening crickets in early spring,

My friends, I’ve lived just like a queen,

Even though I have never seen.

 

Sharon Tewksbury, was born blind in the early fifties. She had cataracts before birth, was born prematurely and was in an incubator for eight weeks. Oxygen and bright lights made what vision she had leave at an expedient rate. This poem was written to share that although some sighted folks might think the blind have missed out, nothing could be further from the truth.

Penance for a Mortal Sin

7 Apr

by Nancy Scott

I chipped a top front tooth

two weeks before my First Communion.

I ran, said something open-mouthed,

mad and loud and smacked

the back of the aluminum chair.

 

I was a short seven,

often hitting the world with my head,

wanting excitement of air,

not able to see and dodge.

 

In the swallowed bits, I sensed

I’d sinned against God who wanted

smiling, Holy, whole

First Communion children,

blindness not counting

because He chose that.

 

Worse, I’d sinned against my mother

whose third commandant

after “study hard”

and “eat everything on your plate”

was “don’t run.”

 

I cried, afraid

they’d cancel Communion.

They filed the tooth,

said it would fall out

someday and I would be given

a second chance if

I didn’t run or open

my mouth too wide.

For the next two weeks, I didn’t.

Nancy Scott’s over 650 essays and poems have appeared in magazines, literary journals, anthologies, newspapers, and as audio commentaries. She has a new chapbook, The Almost Abecedarian (on Amazon), and won First Prize in the 2009 International Onkyo Braille Essay Contest. Recent work appears in Breath and Shadow, Braille Forum, Disabilities Studies Quarterly, Philadelphia Stories, and Wordgathering.

Street Corner Religion

10 Feb

by Jenny Jones

I was walking from the bus to my office one cold morning. I was standing at the corner of an intersection waiting for the light to change and cupping my one free hand over my nose and mouth to stay warm. A man walked up and said, “Hi doggie, what’s your name?” I said, “Please don’t talk to him because he is working.” The man then starts talking to me and says he used to be on oxygen, but then God healed him. “Oh that’s nice,” I said.

My ears perk up and I realize that the light has changed, and we are so close to getting to my warm office. I give Racer the hand gesture for forward, and don’t have to say anything; he just starts leading me across. The man stays put, but I hear him calling after us, “I prayed, and prayed, and prayed.”

His words just hung in the chilly air echoing on and on. It’s weird but I felt like my dog was in agreement with me that this guy was a quack. Maybe what he had to share with me was meaningful but his delivery was lacking. I couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to share that bit of information with me. Was he indicating that his illness was similar to my blindness and he wanted to offer praying as a solution? Would he have shared this information with just anyone at the corner? I can’t help but feel that it had something to do with my disability.

Multiple times I’ve been approached by other strangers who try to tell me that there are doctors who can fix my blindness. They are certain that they have read somewhere about a procedure that will help me. I assure them that I visit a specialist every year who would inform me of any cutting edge remedies. I’ve come to terms with my blindness, but apparently people I sometimes encounter have not. If I were to tell that man my true feelings about praying to be healed, I would say that it would feel too arrogant to ask God to heal me. I would rather God spend his energy on more pressing issues, like granting food to the starving children around the world. Blindness, I can deal with. Going without food, now that’s a problem.

 

Jenny Jones lives with her guide dog Racer in Utah. She was born with cataracts. Retinal detachments took the rest of her sight when she was in her 20s. She loves to read but writing is new to Jenny. She finds it helpful and hopes to continue.  Jenny has a blog at: Jennysjourney464.blogspot.com

 

Quotation

27 Jan

Poetry is what Milton saw when he went blind.” –

(Don Marquis (1878-1937), U.S. humorist, journalist)

The Darkness Encroaches

7 Dec

by T. Easton

Shadows cloud my vision and the darkness encroaches

Unceasing it draws closer robbing me of my hope and dreams

They say fear not for fear has no place in this arena

But do I dare not be afraid faced with such a circumstance?

Do I dare not be dismayed by what my future is to bring?

 

So I stand and pretend to boldly accept my fate

And walk with my hands out in front of my face

I’ve known sorrow before and will undoubtedly again

Yet why do I feel like I’m alone in this fight?

As I struggle to cling to every glimmer of light

 

And still darkness encroaches with disregard for my plans

Rendored helpless as I trip, stumble, fall, and then stand

My head has the evidence of the darkness with which I contend

My shins remind me of the harsh circumstance that I am in

 

So I reach for protection from this indelible cause

And again it evades me as if a whisper in the wind

Lest you should judge me for my trepidation to go

Just remember the truth is that no one truly comprehends

Unless he forges through the darkness in an effort to fight

And weary he reaches the wall of hope and relief

Flipping the switch to find that there is no light.

 

Toby T. Easton was born and raised in Detroit, MI where he lived in a government subsidized housing project. After completing graduate school, he relocated to Raleigh, NC where he currently resides. Toby is a freelance writer and poet. He also works in the mental healthcare field as a licensed therapist. Toby decided to become a therapist in order to satiate his desire to help others discover a means by which they can transform tragic life circumstances into moments of beauty. Toby’s poetry often reflects his experiences with drug and alcohol addiction, physical abuse, and neglect; as well as a long and arduous struggle to rebuild his life after going blind from RP.