Blinded

April 27

Blinded

Alcoholism hits me like a kind of blindness. I stagger through the living room cursing anyone who changes familiar placement or published timetables. Like every aspect of this disease shocked sightlessness is mine to deal with. I must pick up the white cane, procure the Seeing Eye pup, learn to read clustered braille. When my vision clears in these well worked spaces I am relieved, but I must accept that when I walk into a new room more often then not I will be blind again and must pick up my walking stick once more.

Apply a timeframe to misery

*

STREET SIGNS

Hanging out on the corner of Disillusion Boulevard and Grief Road

Then returning to that special spot on Despair Avenue

Was my daily routine.

I made the circle and never looked far afield

Widening my circuit

Allowed me to find Anticipation Place and Hopeful Terrace

I pushed my search and found roads

Whose existence I never fathomed intersected

Creating areas of intrigue

Optimism Court interfacing with Realization Way

Is the fairest of my finds

But many a fine street corner has me lurking

Catching stray sunshine and encouragement

I make my home wherever the hospitality is available

And return less often to the dark and stifling places of the past

Happiness is where you find it

Just make sure to read the signs.