My last poem is called "Gone Blind".
He is a shrine, my blind friend at home.
Wherever I go, and I go far, I remember him
and my heart is full.
Always, he fills me with feeling.
Like someone far from home who longs for his mother.
In his blindness, I am at home.
For I find in it my fullness, in his helplessness.
And he is not practically helpless, but helpless
as we all are truly helpless to help ourselves.
My life becomes a frailty.
Oh, to be there.
To put my arms around his sightlessness.
He has become so gentle now.
All arrogance gone of one who makes demands on life.
In his gratitude for love, he shines with love.
In his victimhood, he shines, like baby shines, babies shine.
Like women shine from their pain,
like Saints and animals shine.
He is innocent again.
He can only give and give more.
That, he is not here with me is unthinkable.
Where have I lost him?
Why is he not here?
Oh, he is here in my heart.
He is my sacred figure, a shrine.
Gone blind, he has brought me light.
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]