Windows on My Face (Poem, 1969)

I wonder how dreary life would be

Without the splendid gift to see

Through the windows on my face

The colors and movements of life’s grace.

To wake in the morning,

To remain in mourning

For the death of sight,

For darkness in light.

Never to visually read a story,

And never know the glory

Of seeing children cheerfully romping,

Or even the joy of window shopping.

To feel my brow wet with rain,

But never see from where it came,

And never witness the arced glow

Of the multi-colored rainbow.

To eat a piece of blueberry pie, or two,

And taste the berries but not see the blue,

To smell the fragrance of Christmas pine,

But not see the lights of that joyful time.

What a great relief I find in my mind,

Knowing the joys of not being blind,

Seeing the colors and movement of life’s grace

Through unbroken window on my face.