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Feb 2019
It might be said:

Walking through the desolate trees,
Past the vibrant, entangled vines,
Away, from the busy, flamboyant hives
Of busy, buzzing bees,
I wonder to myself,
What if I was blind?

Blind… blind as a bat,
A challenge considered a breeze
For me,
An examination I sat
Long before my thoughts had ceased,
From the withering eyes,
The large, interested mouths,
And hissing voices,
I have realised.

Perky, rushing bees,
Working, mending,
Crafting their home,
Had they been blind,
Would they have been able to roam?
In the sheer light of ecstasy,
Shaping their future
Hive of life,
As though
None other was influential enough
To change it?

For I, living, well and all
Could never work to the strength of such
Miniature creatures,
Considered no more than dust
To the rest of a conjectured society.
A society, inclusive of I,
For long ago, I knew I was blind.
Blinded by the bees,
And so I was silenced,
Just as the desolate trees
Before me.
They asked me: "How is blindness conceived through society? Does every body know they have been blinded?"
Written by
danna22081  F/Tripoli, Lebanon
(F/Tripoli, Lebanon)   
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