Deep in my heart
there is a light
deep in my soul
there I see a sorrow
a sorrow for having lived for a moment
and then again having fallen asleep
as I write the tears blur my vision
just as when I breath the unpure air
of this unreal world
my sight is blurred
who will hold my hand
where is my white cane?
*This medal holds a very special place in my heart, but even more so in my life.
It was given to me by a guide, by one of my mentors in life, who could not see with his eyes,
but who has taught me the true value of seeing. His vision has let me grow into my own
space and to see the light within. I am for ever grateful for your dear dear friendship Harry.
Through my writings you the reader will become more and more familiar with the white cane and
my guide.
I love meeting your white cane full of light which guides you through the darkness. I know it leads you and takes you through your swamp and your forest as well as your gardens and oceans. I love this poem and I know your white cane is always with you even when you cannot see it, its’ presence is felt throughout your words and life.
Isn’t the white cane magical. Sometimes it acts as a guide and other times as a baton, orchestrating life. I am fortunate that it knows light and dark and it knows the language of the seeing and deaf. I am fortunate to be guided by light and to have you as a companion on this journey of life.
“Who will hold my hand”…
I was particularly moved by this line. Maybe because I am currently alone in some bus station in the middle of a country I wish I knew as you do.
I disagree with the common idea that we are alone in our journey. Hands are offered to us at every second of our journeys, it is only our choice to seize them and to discover who is the “Who” that will hand ours. And this, sight cannot give any idea about it.
Thank you for this poem, Bahareh. I hope I’ll find my white cane one day, if only there is one. Perhaps the on only purpose of a white cane is to show others we need a hand to hold.