Today is difficult. Grey light with murky vision makes me feel claustrophobic; everything looks like its under dirty water. I only just got out of my pajamas and its lunch time and there is a pile of work to do…none of which I can assure you will be done. My sight is too tricky to go into town. Without being able to drive or ride a bike anymore one’s world gets really quite ‘local’. The only choice is to walk come rain or …well, as this is England, ‘not rain’. I am always considering how many crowds and how many major roads there will be and today…nope. Its not completely laziness. there is an element of self preservation. I make mistakes when feeling soul weary and when you are pretty blind those mistakes can cost you a lot more then just your pride.
Anyway – I am hoping England win the rugby this evening as beating the French usually ensures the general English gloom lifts across the nation and the word ‘jolly’ can be used again at least until the finals…
Meanwhile a poem. (Don’t say you haven’t been warned…)
Dry Erase Marker. (on losing my sight in 2004)
My eyes are being sucked slowly by sickness,
Gobstoppers going from hue to blue
I want you to give them back.
My horizons are broken into jags of jigsaw,
My mountains have bite marks
My seas are squeezed;
And all the time,
While the trees strike my face and
Traffic is a game for card sharps,
I am desperate to breathe.
Colour is oxygen and light becomes
My bread and wine.