So well aware was I of what I lack
that I had tried, adroitly to conceal it
by taking hold and pulling in the slack,
but now I find it wiser to reveal it.
I'm cast into the world. I stumble out
alone, afraid of everything around me,
and plagued by ghosts that follow me about,
I quiver as they rise up to astound me.
I'd crawl again into my warm cocoon
and lie my head on filmy silk forever,
but I don't need a resting place so soon
and I can't demand of life, it's now or never.
So I'll face the wind as bravely as I can.
Each bitter blow will have to reach its span.
I never could remember numbers.
I didn't like them found them unpleasant
to think about, too precise. There is
no room to imagine them another way.
With numbers I feel trapped.
My mind was always drawn to letters.
Letters lead to words and names,
create images and take me on journeys.
Now I can still see those images,
even if I can't always remember their names.
The words and names are stored
safely somewhere in my mind,
I strain to remember them, but
as hard as I try, I cannot.
When I stop trying, they are there,
dancing around in my mind eluding me,
challenging me to relax and minimize
their importance. When I do, they sheepishly
reveal themselves. Aha!
A tree offered a geography lesson
about the moon, which created
a good deal of interest.
People wondered how the tree knew
so much about mysterious La Luna.
"You see," said the tree, holding her
tenderly with two of its branches,
"I stand here every night, all night long,
firmly planted, unable to walk away.
I have studied her my whole life."
Waiting for us to discover,
surrounded by varied degrees of light
is the miracle we uncover
when we use our gift of sight.
Shapes and depth appear before us.
Colors sing and make us swoon,
softly blending as a chorus
of a sweet, romantic tune.
You may walk away ignore it,
show disinterest in your eyes,
or come closer and explore it,
showing wonder and surprise.
The choice is yours alone to make.
Many others pray they might
have that chance in life to take.
Revel in your glorious gift of sight.
All things in their extreme become,
in every aspect, their converse,
Therefore, I must find a balance
and love even the bitter
of this cruel contradiction—Life.
for at its essence is the sweet.
—Medusa, with thanks to Linda Klein for today’s fine poetry, and to Joe Nolan for finding us photos!
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