This is a poem about being both blind and sighted, yet being neither at the same time.
You see even though I am blind and consider myself just simply "blind;" rather than some of those other awkward and at times degrading terms such as, "visually impaired" or "sight Impaired" I do have some residual vision. Not much, but it’s there all the same. So I am stuck in a no-mans land of being both sighted and blind, each to it’s own degree. Yet at the same time being neither sighted nor blind, not in each of there full capacities of the word anyway.
It is my opinion that being stuck in this limbo like state is often harder than simply being totally blind. So this poem expresses some of my frustration and confusion I have experienced in the past from this situation. I hope you enjoy.
Standing on the cusp of two worlds,
Reaching for the depths of the sea.
Anchored in one existance,
Set adrift floating through another.
Kareening across waves of normalcy,
Marrooned on a desert island called minority.
Two worlds one existance.
Or is it Two existances one world?
Flight paths of thought,
Coming together in mid air collision.
What is the nature of existance?
What is the existance of nature?
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