Wednesday, November 20, 2013

For the Blind

Look at your hand and realize
late afternoon light is starting
to shine right through it
Feel yourself starting to fade, growing
dull and indistinct, losing your pigment
becoming translucent
and then, inevitably, invisible
There’s nothing you can do but try to get used to
this new lack of physical attributes
Even the other invisible people
Want nothing to do with you
You remind them too much
of themselves, and the fact that once
they too could be seen, and perhaps desired
Once, long ago, most of us were
Not all of us. Some of us were born this way,
or became so at a very early age
and don’t know any other life
Are not tortured or comforted
by memories of what it was like
to be blessedly opaque

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