Unsighted

• Bridget Marshall, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2010

I walk past a wilted flower in all of its misery and gloom,

The next day I walk past not noticing that its petals are in full bloom,

Then a man comes up and asks me which way is left and which is right,

To that I laugh and walk away, before realizing he is without sight,

I feel so stupid, so I run away with tears streaming down my face,

The flame of humiliation is burning and quickening up my pace,

While running I knock over a lady, and don’t even apologize,

To that I steal a quick glance back and see the hurt in the woman’s eyes,

I’m running and slipping the floor seems to be made of ice,

My head is whirring because my eyes have turned into a failing device,

There are things I miss everyday because my eyes simply cannot see,

So to clear my vision I’ll open my heart and let out some empathy,

And little by little I’ll see some more,

Then walk straight through, the now open door.