Digging in the dark
Looking for something I lost
In the dusk
Of a hazy evening,
Or maybe it was the dawn.

I can’t remember when.
I’m not sure where.
It’s buried though.
Deep, I fear.

I haven’t missed it
Much.
Then the day will go down.
It will roll up backwards
Hang me upside down
And I’ll be looking in the dark.

The size, the shape, the color
Escape me now.
I only remember the feel
In the dark.

The gentleness, the wholeness.
The way I knew who I was….
When I had my heart.

So, I dig, in the dark.
The hours between dusk and dawn.
When feeling is easiest
because blindness is natural then.

By Deborah E. Dayen

Picture from Google Images

Note:  I first posted this poem in May of 2016.  I just decided to repost it, because it was one of my old favorites.