Snow Globe in Black
By
Clara Blair
The windows of my soul
Are streaked and smeared
With black blood.
I've been through this before,
And know that time or surgery
Will clear my sight.
But now there's fear and anger:
Loss of vision conjures
Other visions of loss.
I know I'm one of the lucky,
That others lose more
They can never reclaim.
But in my still center
I cannot deny I am angry,
I grieve, I know fear.
© 2002 Clara Blair
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