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Blind

 It's okay if the world goes with Venetian;
Who cares what Italians don't see?--
Or with Man's Bluff (a temporary problem
Healed by shrieks and cheating)--or with date:
Three hours of squirming repaid by laughs for years.
But when an old woman, already deaf, Wakes from a night of headaches, and the dark Won't disappear--when doctors call like tedious Birds, "If only.
.
.
" up and down hospital halls-- When, long-distance, I hear her say, "Don't worry.
Honey, I'll be fine," is it a wonder If my mind speeds down blind alleys? If the adage "Love is blind" has never seemed So true? If, in a flash of blinding light I see Justice drop her scales, yank off Her blindfold, stand revealed--a monster-god With spidery arms and a mouth like a black hole-- While I leap, ant-sized, at her feet, blinded By tears, raging blindly as, sense by sense, My mother is sucked away?

Poem by Charles Webb
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things