I am silenced by grief.
By shadows and blindness and the infernal heat wave
that coats my city like an itchy, heavy blanket.
I am coming unhinged.
I try to climb up through my lethargy,
snap my pieces back into place,
but the gravity of your absence pushes me
down on the floor, where blindness doesn’t matter
and the silence is intoxicating.
If I am perfectly still, the chaos won’t touch me
and my ghosts can’t find me.
If I rise to the occasion of my creative pulse,
I may burn up in the greedy spark of my fear.
Darkness chases me through the passages of my life,
whispering that I am useless and defective.
The sacrifice is my voice.
It is a sacrifice I am not yet willing to make.


Photo by Joaquin Villaverde Photography

Susan Richardson

Susan Richardson

Susan Richardson is a poet living, writing and going blind in Los Angeles. She is re-emerging into the literary world after a long hiatus brought about by an RP diagnosis. She lives with an Irishman, 2 pugs and 2 cats. She crochets blankets and scarves for her family and friends. In addition to poetry, she writes a blog called, “Stories from the Edge of Blindness”.
Susan Richardson

Latest posts by Susan Richardson (see all)

%d bloggers like this: