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Poem

No sounds are made, her world is hushed
She dances in darkness to music not heard
Imagines things that to us would be absurd
Lives in tranquility, where nothing is rushed

Through Braille she lives with fingers as guide
She weaves through valleys, mountains high
She'll never have to witness a loved one die
No evil to see or hear, no lies she will hide

No sorrow do I feel for her lack of the gifts
we take for granted, ones we abuse; misuse
She's better off not seeing life's colorful hues
or the black and white of men who cause rifts

She builds her castles without moats of fear
Soars in the clouds upon gold and silver wings
In mumbled but beautiful voice, she sings
She makes me aware that angels are here

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