This is a poem simply describing a woman I occasionally see, when I’m walking around my local neighbourhood. I’ve always been impressed, and slightly awed, by blind people. I admire the courage and fortitude involved in making your way around, in a world of darkness, aided only by a white stick or a guide-dog.
Blind Asian Woman:
Stocky figure, in yellow and red,
sturdily stepping her way.
Guide dog beside her, by which she is led
on each indomitable foray.
I watch; my admiration immense.
I follow her along the lane.
I speculate, my curiosity intense;
questions resound in my brain.
Where is she going? Where does she live?
How does she do it? Can she forgive?
Is blindness bred into her bone?
Darkness all she has ever known?
On her left flank, her dog.
On her right, her white cane.
On her back, a bulky rucksack.
She resembles a pilgrim.
Through dry spells, through rain,
she journeys, she travels,
she comes back.
Exotic figure, in grey, British climes.
Shining example, all places, all times.
Her determined stride; her dog’s padding pace.
Facing the darkness with pride, with grace.