when we were young
we thought we’d never be thirty
when we were thirty
we never thought we’d be old
now all of us are old
some of us are sick
some are widowed
—and one of us is blind
the rest of us are horrified
we never considered blindness
what it must be like never to see
your husband as he holds your hand
the cats who rub against your leg
the books stacked by your bed to read
the sewing projects left unmade
the unfinished quilts, the unfinished dreams
she never smoked
she lives on a farm
eating farm-fresh food
she planned
and planted
nurtured
to nourish
her family and friends
life plays dirty tricks sometimes
Kay L. Davies, July, 2012
Sketches from dreamstime.com
Posted for
OPEN LINK MONDAY
at the online writers' group, Imaginary Garden with Real Toads
The name of this group comes from a poem by Marianne Moore, an amazing, award-winning poet we would all wish to emulate.
the result is not poetry...
till the poets among us...
till the poets among us...
can present, for inspection, 'imaginary gardens with real toads in them'
14 comments:
How sad.
And yes, it does.
@ flipside records — Thanks. It's been difficult for many people. No one has adjusted to her new reality, except perhaps her wonderful, loving, caring husband of many years.
K
Kay you could have written this about my mum. She misses reading and doing her crosswords so much, although the RNIB have been marvellous xxx
It does, indeed. Excellent write.
Kay, a voracious reader's worst nightmare. My grandma and my mom both lost most of their sight in their later years and could no longer read. For me, even harder would be not seeing nature's beauty. How sad for your friend, but how wonderful that she has such a loving husband.
Oh yes, some things one knows are waiting, but those unexpected things, like blindness, seem unnecessarily cruel. I never appreciated my sight until I realized that my vision was becoming increasingly impaired, and I dread the thought of going blind.
Losing an eyesight will terrified ordeal. I hope that we continue to get blessed so we see of these beautiful things around us.
Enjoy the rest if the week.
I love that first stanza because that's just the way it is for me too. And then the second makes me horrified too with a little hesitancy, because I know she can work with that, and feel those dear things, but when you get to the third I get it: There really is no preparation, no being good so we don't get that lump of coal. That is the real horror. Wow.
I often have thought that I would so much rather be deaf than blind, although I'd prefer neither, really. How sad for her to have so much left, like books left to read and sewing projects unfinished. Thank goodness for her loving husband and the RNIB too.
A touching and worrisome post, Kay! I can't entertain the possibility that I might no longer see the faces I love, or read all I've been saving for the fabled "later". A needed reminder that all we have is this moment in time, and must celebrate every single second with joy!
A beautifully written piece...:)
Oh Kay, yes I know that horrible feeling of seeing someone I care for suffer and there not being any way to help! Tragic. For your friend, for her family, for you and her other friends.
Now you too, take good care. My thoughts are with you.
[I am in Toronto, indeed. Had to come suddenly when my brother-in-law's declining health took a fast turn for the worse. We tried to get here to see him, but flights were full and we were too late. Haven't been blogging much myself.]
This is so terribly sad, Kay. It's a worry for all of us. My neighbor's son is not even old and he suffered a stroke. I can hear his frustration on not being able to do things he thought he'd be able to do forever.
It's a real pity for loss of sight. We can't imagine a colorless world all dark. God forbid!
Hank
The things we never imagine happening when we are young...a touching, true-to-life poem.
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