As I sit here on my bed in the early morning sun I feel as I do every morning, the deepest longing within me. It is like an emptiness that can never be filled. A yearning. An aching. This feeling is so familiar to me now. Tears seem pointless. They cannot do any good. They cannot change anything. And yet sometimes they flow. And when they do, they come out like a volcano erupting. Spewing out all the grief, the longing, and the pain that is inside me.

Fear. There is so much fear. My life is lived in fear. For I am not in control of it. Others are. And others are not always merciful. I have discovered the sheer fragility of life. Sometimes I feel I hang like a thread. Sometimes though, life is a dead weight around my neck. I would gladly dispense with it. How can I carry such a weight?

For some, there are easy, facile answers. Because that is how most operate. There HAS to be an answer. A fix. For some, there is no facing this tragedy that has befallen me. It just cannot BE. And so, I am judged. Because I already have my answer. And there IS no fix. My answer is that I have to endure.

It is fear that stops people from coming near to me. From truly entering into my world. Sometimes I get kisses. But they are fleeting. The person is soon gone. I yearn to talk. To tell them about my world. To at least give them a glimpse of it. But no one has time. No one has time to stop by a blind person in a wheelchair and listen. To break the loneliness. The isolation.

Inside, I yearn. I crave. I am dying of thirst. Thirsting for love. But it does not exist. At least not where I am.

And so I wake. Every morning I wake, thirsty. Longing. Aching. Yet afraid. Because I know that that for which I yearn does not exist. I shake within me. If only someone would TOUCH me. Just a touch. So simple. Yet so profound. Just a touch to say “I care.”

I go away empty handed. Starving. Thirsty. To bear my pain alone.

I return to my bed. A NO-thing. To my world of darkness. A darkness that is impenetrable. Impenetrable because no one wants to reach out. And I have learned. And I have learned well – this is mine to bear alone.

Tears prick the back of my eyes. But wait. They are not tears. They are a wailing, and a howling. They roar like a volcano. It feels like the whole earth is roaring. I am surrounded by roaring. I AM the roaring. But no one hears. Who wants to be under a volcano?

Years stretch in front of me. How many more years can I bear? Hear my cry. Hear my plea. Touch me. Hold me. Love me.

10 thoughts on “TOUCH ME

  1. blindzanygirl

    Thanks mvadi. It is as it is. I cope. Inside me is the light. It is just sad that people react as they do. Xo


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