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Baila Nov 2020
“I see,” he says.
But he is blind.

He understands though,
He nods and I know he understands.

Grey hair, loose strips -
Of it. Around a head,
That ‘sees,’ even
When his eyes do not.

We are afraid of seeing.
We see with our eyes but not
With our mind.

There are colors and shapes,
Movements and changes.
But do we see them?

It is we who are blind.

— The End —