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Seeing yet unseeing,

I have passed through this world

as a blind man -

so sure of my way,

yet so clumsy of foot.

Do not take me by the hand.

I do not need your help.

I am led along

by the whisperings in my head.

Not knowing that the path before me

would lead only to my destruction,

I trudged on.

And on and on and on.

Do not tell me the way to go.

I do not want your direction.

I am led along

by another guide.

My dark comforter is my attendant.


Though this road is treacherous

and burdened by many obstacles,

still I am certain of my bearings,

still I march blindly forward,

not knowing the perilous passage

that lays in wait

like an opened mouth -

full of sharp teeth,

jagged and razor edged.

All the same

I will not heed your warnings.

My ears are deaf to your voice.

I will not observe the signposts

beckoning me to turn back again.

My course is set.

With what reckless abandon

I have given myself

to this constant catastrophe

of groping and falling!

Yet I will not turn aside.

Though this way be set ablaze

by the fires of hell,

I persist through the smoke.


And on and on and on I go,

blindly led along without objection

or regard to my destination.

My eyes have been seared,

my sight is blackness.

What is this burning in my chest?

What is this piercing in my head?

Where have you brought me?

And what is this tearing at my soul?

I trusted you.

I gave you my hand.

What is this ripping of my flesh?

What are you doing?

Your barbs bite into my body.

Your blade begins to empty my veins,

spilling my blood onto the thirsty ground.

You promised me life,

but I taste only death on my tongue

and the smell of it is in the air.

Where have you brought me?

What is this sound of wailing in my ears?

Is it not my own voice

joining in a tortured chorus

with countless others gone before me?


Oh, that I could trade

this blindness for sight,

and return from whence I came!

But it is too late for me.

The wailing grows louder

with each passing moment

as my sanity flees

and the life drains from me

giving drink to those who lie below.


Painting by James Smolko

◄ Near Misses and Fatal Mistakes

Son ►


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Sun 2nd Aug 2020 16:14

Adam, Leon, and Leora, thank you for the likes. 😊

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Sun 2nd Aug 2020 14:57

Po, thank you for your words!

Bluesky, how apropos! I am that poet who, though seeing, was blind.

Shifa, thank you. It’s good to hear from you again. 😊

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Shifa Maqba

Sun 2nd Aug 2020 08:59

"You promised me life,
but I taste only death on my tongue
and the smell of it is in the air"... soul-stirring lines!
May your persist through every puff of smoke, big or small, you find yourself engulfed in.


Sun 2nd Aug 2020 08:28

I remember the line of a poem

The poet on reaching home
On a dark and stormy night
Discovers that the man who led him home
Was actually blind only by sight
But the poet was blind even with sight.

Just thought of sharing

Deep thoughts👍

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Paul Sayer

Sun 2nd Aug 2020 07:12

This is what a marriage of real poetry and art looks like.

Truly when two become one.

The total of the two far exceeds the sum of the two.

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Sun 2nd Aug 2020 07:05

Po, Don’t we though? We are all so infinitesimal in our understanding.

And I agree. A friend of mine painted that just for this poem.

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Paul Sayer

Sun 2nd Aug 2020 07:00

We all walk blindly on...

A great image that compliments the poem.

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