sense of touch - September 14, 2014s

author’s note:

“Tonight’s forecast…dark.”
         — George Carlin


Though this illness
had dimmed my vision
I could see well enough to see
how pained my people were

so I went out searching
for a cure

not imagining then
how expensive
the quest

but what are we without our health?

The unknown land lay dark
and the darkness only deepened
the farther I wandered:

I bumbled and stumbled
amid the many shadows
until finally, in frustration
I sat down on a rock to refresh—
to gather together
what remained of my wits.

As a prop, I put
my blind fingers to the ground
and there to my surprise, I began to find
many unknown things
of peculiar texture:

some were bumpy
some were crinkly
some were razor sharp

smoothly furry to the touch.

Occasionally I’ve encountered
something slimy and slithering
and felt the impulse to flee

until overcome
by the greater desire
of my curiosity.

No, I don’t allow my fear to rule me—!—

yet I remain cautious…I remain attentive:

in this way, I’ve developed
my sense of touch:
to feel requires patience.

The more I feel, the more I see:
my vision clears…but so so slowly—
I can’t yet find my way back home.

Perhaps you’ll arrive before I do—
if so, tell the people: I will return
to share what I have found

but not until I can see us all
in a light much brighter:

a mighty merciful Sun.

© 2014, Michael R. Patton
dreaming steps