Poetry: The Blind Man


The Blind Man: Desire Wisdom

There he is sitting on a log

No one beside him, not even his needed dog

With his wide eyes in the distance on a hot summer day

This old man with hair on his face white as cotton’s hay

Big round eyes of wonder looking into the sky

This moment captured so beautifully, yet so bizarre

Because the man looking up cannot see at all

His brown sun hat shades his head, the perfect fit for this porcelain doll

A worn brown blazer, denim jeans, and white shoes is what he has on

One hand grasping a stick, while the other lies on

He looks into the distance without fear or care like a ferocious lion

Maybe he can see something that we, with our natural eyes fail to see

In front of his wooden house like an unmovable mountain

This old man takes a rest each day

I wish he would speak to me, what would he say?

Would he talk to me about difficulties like racism and economics?

Would he tell me how a day in his life like a paradise in Earth’s tropics?

Would he be able to encourage me or give me hope before he passes away?

While he sits there and gazes into the terribly bright sky

His enormous black shadow lags behind

Speak to me Mr. tell me what is on your mind.


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You Make Me Brave - Amanda Cook
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