Blind

I close my eyes

I listen to all the footsteps around me

some are distance and some are as close as my heart beats

sound is the language of the blind

here he is with his broken steps

walking in the dark when he feels the heat of the sun light

moving his cane like a dog sniffing the ground

he stops to cross the road

waiting for a hand to guide him threw the stream

but it seems that all of us are blind..

over there is an old lady carrying her groceries

she stops every one, two-three, four, five steps

while we fly pass her with our young feet..

not far away sitting on a bucket

a mother with nothing but an empty pocket

she has no work no man no shelter from the weather..

there is a story in every foot on this road

being blind is never about the eyesight ..