Sarah

Catrin Welz-Stein

I put my hand on the arm of the woman,
my grey hand upon her grey sleeve,
and she leads me through the echoing emptiness.
— excerpt from “The Blindman’s Song,” by Rainer Maria Rilke

An accident at birth and she is blind
only ever knowing a particular emptiness.
She navigates her world with touch,
hearing more acute, smelling her world
and a bit of a sixth sense of intuiting.

But she is aware of the eyes on her
wondering, judging, pitying, assessing.
Aware of whispering or lowered voices
and even people who rudely stare.
I think they are scared by her blindness.
  
She takes my arm as I try to lead
(stairs coming up, table here, drink to
right as I guide her hand to the straw).
She’s patient with my attempts to help.
She takes my proffered arm trustingly.

Process notes: I met Sarah when she was 13, she’s now 30. We have been going out once a month for dinner for the past several years. When she was born a mistake was made that led to her blindness and also, I assume, Asperger’s Syndrome. She lives at home with her dad and is examining going to an assisted living facility.

dVerse Feeling a Bit Nostalgic Today! Posted by lillian in Poetics“
Images by Catrin Welz-Stein