I am blind again.
Suddenly without sight,
all I have is your hand
and the sound of the sea
that always pulses
brilliant and salty
under my skin,
simply switching
the cells of foam against the shore,
these blood-red waves crash
against the weight of the tide
giving me the necessary
distant lighthouse.
Exhausted from the looking,
I rest in this musty smell of fall
waiting for some clue,
some poem or puzzle
to touch me deeply,
some phrase to take me
back to the door of my father's house,
some loving kindness
to protect my tender feet
on this journey
like my first pair of shoes
before I learned to dance.
A gentle guide
at the small of my back.
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