Blindness

There is none so blind as those who will not see. – John Heywood, 1546

You were there today, but I did not see you.

I saw your cane, and the dog who is your savior, but I did not see you.

I saw your body, and the look of discerning anxiousness on your face,

The outward signs of the life you live, but I did not see you.

Our paths crossed today, but I did not see you.

I saw a person sitting in your wheelchair and the frown you wore on your face.

From these outward appearances I assumed you were not happy.

I saw your grandson approach you, and then I saw you smile.

We were both on the street today, but I did not see you.

I saw your clothes, your body covered with tattoos,

the piercings you wear like armour to defend you

And allowed them to deflect my gaze away.

I saw your clothes today, your beauty worn like a mask.

The image you project of confidence, calm, and complete control

Protected you just as you wanted it to.

I saw your image today, but I did not see you.

You served me today, but I did not see you.

You checked my seat belt on the plane, you brought me peanuts and something to drink.

Who are you, I wonder: a son, a daughter, a mother?

We passed like planes in the clouds, unseen and unknown.

I arrived home tonight, and still I’ve not seen you.

All day long, like ships in the night, we passed.

My eyes were shrouded in blindness, my heart was kept inside,

And it makes me wonder, will ever I see you?

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me 

– (Lyrics from The Who's rock opera Tommy.)