I have taken the challenge up once more (my paragraph in Italic) after being inspired by the photo and paragraph below from
My fingertips reflect the world back to me. What I cannot see, I feel, smell, taste, and hear. I feel shadows as I reach for the sun and smell the coming weather on the wind. I’ve never felt deprived of sight even though I’m blind, but sometimes my fingers have a mind of their own. At first, I felt nothing. There would be periods of my day missing; people actually accused me of drawing. At first I didn’t believe them, now I’m awake when I draw. Despite feeling shoved to the back while something else controls my movement, there’s a wave of serenity that keeps me calm. Am I crazy, or just weak? Everyone else has their magic under control.
She allows my hands to move, gesturing languid movements across the page, as if skimming finger tips over tranquil water. My eyes are open, staring to the distance, yet darkness is all that I am able to see. I ask though what is darkness, if I have never witnessed light? She awakens the part of me that has slept since birth, encourages me, whispers that I can. I take hold of the charcoal, I draw. Am I the only one who shares with another? Those that cannot see the one that lives within, surely in their own way are also blind. For she talks to me and I answer gathering strength and together we face the coming weather on the wind.
I have not read this story – Blind Sight this is just my take, continuing from the paragraph read.
When I look into the mirror who looks back at me? character lines etched by a chisel eyes that no longer have clarity
wrinkles, skin loose thinner than it was time marches on, the woman that looks back now so very different than the girl of my childhood, this is the grown up me
the foundations still remain yet sometimes when I see myself it’s hard to visualise who I once was, the years unfailingly have changed the image of the physical and yet, I’m aware changes are inevitable
am I happy to accept? some days I do, others not should I convince myself to refrain from feeling as I do? my mind remains the same regardless the inner me not altered
this is only my outer shell one that has accompanied my life for 57 years, yet forgive me my reflection, there are moments when I gaze at you and wish that who looked back
was that little girl once more swirling in a pretty party dress without a care in the world no thought given to appearance no worries of her future no desire for anything to change
compliments will flatter for just a moment but they fail to erase completely those times when I look upon myself and feel this way you may not know of what I speak
you may not have reached this stage
how my impression is of me now, the aspiration to feel like that little girl once more, a non-sensical notion to turn back the hands of time but just for one sweet moment one brief minute or three
I think of how nice it would be to have that chance to start life over, to see the little girl where I stand now….looking back at me