Vision Without Sight

Blindly I touch, listen,
stumble about, a lid removed from my being.
Spines of tree. Solid, rough.
Something spongy I dare say feels green.
What is this? A whisper of leaves.
Smooth pearls,
poky twig.
Wind is loud.
Textures bloom under my fingers.
I never knew fingers could see.
So many birds, even mid day.
Scratching chatter must be a squirrel to my left.
A tree frog chirps somewhere to my right.
I attempt inching ahead,
testing my weight on lumpy sod.
Which way is forward? Where is behind?
What is me expands to encompass
everywhere I cannot see.

Description of a practice reconnecting senses to the natural world. Our modern society reinforces our visual sense above all others. Take five minutes to be in nature (somewhere you won’t fall off a cliff) and blindfold yourself or have someone you trust guide your hands. I guarantee, unless you are already blind, you will have a new appreciation of yourself and the world.