Blind Tales, a poem by Chinatu (Blessed) Orji

Blind Tales, a poem by Chinatu (Blessed) Orji
Every Morning
He kneels for a miracle
Arms stretched out
As if to pluck guava
Sun shuts in
Darkness excuses light
He widens eyes before sun
He withdraws and sighs
It doesn’t work
It won’t work
Not near possible
Crawls back to his friend
Bed of stones
He bares his hurt on her
As he drags comfort in the piercings
Of each stone as they increase
Into hundreds
Wangling through his black skin.
He snores into the night
Finds solace in the whistling
Of redemption songs by tiny
Crickets.
He spits words the lines of
I’m half dead
What does the colour red look like

Sand Leaf or blood
What is life without sight
I’m half dead
He sobs back to his bed of stone again
This time saying fervent subtle prayers
Dear God
Take this blind fold away
I can’t live in the dark
Else I leave early
I live on people’s recommendation
I have no choice
Let your benevolence shine on me
Thank you God.
Then he tells the world
When he meets it
Where it meets him
I am a blind man
I tell no tales
I use my mind’s eyes
I can say yes or No
When I know my onions
But before I do
It already made me cry.
This is my life
A blind man’s life
My daily struggle.

Chinatu (Blessed) Orji,
Department of Mass Communication, Cross River University of Technology

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