winter poem

silent wild fury
descends from deep heights
quiet I stand
made of secrets


It was the awlthat blinded little Louisthat was usedto create the first braille. It was the everymanthe destroyer of sons and daughtersthe wounder and the woundedthe patient and the doctorthe blind leading the blind. I am the blind oneI am the maker of waysfor all of us unhealed.I tell rumors of light and colorand unseen […]