Monthly Archives: October 2011

Excerpt 2 of “Beauty of the Blind” (Working Title)

“Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?” she asked innocently, almost in a whiny voice.
“No,” he said, secretly wanting to let it all out but aware she was far too young to hear of such things. She was the ideal person to tell such things to, but she was also the most inappropriate. “Not you.”
“But why?”
“You won’t understand.”
“But you always find a way of making me understand.” She began feeling her way to where he was, wanting to move closer in order to hear him in case he murmured. It was what was said softly that was most important and in need of attention.
He didn’t get up to help her. Instead he watched her bring her tiny little hands to the cave’s walls to guide her, her feet dragging themselves to clear the path of rocks so she wouldn’t trip. If he helped her, she would only feel weak. Like her blindness wasn’t what gave her her strength.
“I’ll understand if you want me to,” she said, touching his shoulder before sitting down on the ground beside his chair.
“You won’t see.”
She remained quiet.
“I’m sorry,” he said, realizing the mistake in his poor choice of words.
“I wish I could see,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
He looked at her and his eyes softened. “You see more than everyone else.”
“But it’s still not enough.”
“A man is meant to suffer alone.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s the only one who can understand himself completely.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Then why are there other people? I mean, why do there have to be others?”
“So we can be more aware of our loneliness–how we can be so alone in a room full of people.”
“I don’t understand.”
He sighed. “Okay, here: don’t you ever feel alone? You with your blindness?”
“Yes. Sometimes.”
“Especially when you’re with a lot of people, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Because they don’t understand how it’s like to be blind?”
“Uhmmm, no,” she said slowly, shifting her position to one that was more comfortable. “It’s because I don’t remember what it’s like to be like them–to be able to see. The only time I feel alone is when I don’t understand others. I thought people explain things to me, what they see, because they don’t want me to feel alone. When they explain, I feel nice, loved, cared for.”
“Oh you sweet little girl,” he said. He didn’t want to correct her, to tell her that people explain what they experience only because they want so much to be understood. She had so much faith in the selflessness of humanity. That was something he did not want to tamper with.
“You don’t want me to feel alone, right? That’s why you’re always explaining, always talking, even if it can become hard sometimes,” she said softly. “I can tell, because of the way you sigh.”
“I explain because I want you to understand.” He didn’t want to tell her that he wanted her to understand only because he didn’t want to be alone.
“And you hide only what will make me feel alone.”
“Yes.”

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Beyond the harbor

I see
now
a multitude of stars
fixed and unmoving
teaching
above for all to see
yet no one sees.
And a look
like a glance
is taken for granted,
a series of looks of life giving ignored.
We might as well be blind,
under them
to one another
and to the present.
(Illusions of future,
the fiction of the past–
they mirror each other.)

Teach me, fix me, move me.
I’ll lean on you
when the world turns upside down
and I fall into those constellations of celestial spheres.

Only then
after all
will I no longer need eyes to see.

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