Stories From the Edge of Blindness

In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.

Images and Words

It is that time of the month – Ekphrastic Challenge time!!!

The images for Visual Verse and Rattle Ekphrastic Challenge are both up.

The lead poems from VV are wonderful.  Here is the first, from Julia Webb, to get you inspired. Remember, these VV poems are written in 1 hour or less.

by Julia Webb

Time she says is like an old tin box
you drag it down from the attic
but nothing in there makes sense.

You are sitting in a garden café
in the middle of a wood,
watching chickens in a makeshift run
scratching around in the dust.
The day is so hot you feel like a waxwork
that’s been left out in the sun,
like you are wearing someone else’s skin.
There’s a thunder fly floating in your tea
and a film of sweat on the rubbery cheddar
inside your ploughman’s sandwich.
Her lips keep moving but you’ve stopped
listening, you wonder what it would feel
like to be made entirely of cheese.


late night correspondence from a cage ~ Susan Richardson


dear kat –

i miss you-i feel trapped in this cage-

(my throat is in fragments)

agitation pricks my skin-i haven’t slept in days-

i can’t remember sex-

(i don’t know if i want to)

i think my muse has shriveled up-what the fuck is a muse anyway-

rage seeps through the curtains- i am choking on lost words-

blindness has stolen what lies beneath me-

(what lingers above i can almost taste)

i can’t get the dirt off my skin-discontent stains my eyes-

my hair is brittle- it’s falling out-

the bones in my fingers are tangled-i can’t get the wine open-

expectation pulses on my tongue-

(i am the plaything of catastrophe)

clichés hunt me down sinking roads-

booze grabs at the roots of my sensibilities-

i trudge through darkness-kneel on scraps of hope-

possibility washes over my knuckles-

i remember myself thin and young in a red…

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Morality Park

Morality Park is an Art and Lit collective that embodies the vitality of art and celebrates a wide range of artistic voices and sensibilities.  I am incredibly excited and honored to be a part of this amazing creative venture, and to have my writing alongside that of such immensely talented writers.  I was introduced this week with my poem, “Letches”.

Every contributor to Morality Park brings a voice that is richly unique and textured; it is writing that will seep into your skin and your bones and your thoughts! I wanted to take this opportunity to highlight the writing of all the MP Artists, and urge you to go and check out the guest contributors as well.

The MP Artists are: A.G. Diedericks (Founder and Creator), Eli Kyoko (Managing Editor), Maggie Lawson (Managing Editor), David Redpath, The Stories In-between, Chris Nelson, Natin Lalit Murali, and Bojana Stojcic.

This weeks guest features are from Brandewulf and Michael Gerard Rousseau.

Morality Park is offering some of the best contemporary writing you will have the pleasure of reading.  I know you will be as inspired as I am.

Hiking Blind

A friend recently asked me how I manage hiking with limited vision.  I have actually been thinking about writing a post about this since I started hiking again. I thought it might be something other people wondered about as well.  How the hell can a blind woman go hiking?  You have to remember, I am blind but I can see.  It is probably less confusing if I refer to myself as VI (visually impaired), but I am legally blind.
Continue reading “Hiking Blind”

How Do I Get Out Of Here

I didn’t start this month thinking I would be writing about mental illness, but I have been so encouraged by the bravery of other writers sharing their experiences, I feel the need to share my own, with the hope that it may help someone, somehow.  My experiences are not unique, but that is the point; there are so many of us out there who suffer from depression and anxiety, and we should not feel ashamed.
Continue reading “How Do I Get Out Of Here”

The Choice to Climb

I am feeling compelled to continue writing about living with depression and all the layers that come with it.  I think it can be confusing, but needs to be talked about so the stigma of it gets eradicated and it can be treated just like any other illness that a person is saddled with.
Continue reading “The Choice to Climb”

Let’s Talk About the D Word

I recently read two blog posts about depression, from Wil Wheaton and HLFHM.  Both are brave and honest accounts of what it is like to live with depression, and both are written openly and without shame, in the hope to help others understand and feel that depression is nothing to be ashamed of.  These posts made me want to make an attempt at throwing my dilapidated hat into the downward spiral. Hopefully, the more of us who talk and write openly about living with mental illness, the more it will come out from underneath its blanket of shame.
Continue reading “Let’s Talk About the D Word”

I Belonged to You

My contribution to the May Visual Verse challenge.

I Belonged to You

You called me a waif, admonishing me for running
the streets in bare feet, soles blackened by soot.
With tender hands and a smile that edged away
the undertow of frustration, you washed the blood
from my stubbed toes and bandaged the
wounds of a stalwart and reckless childhood.
Your rage burned out of control for the other kids,
but I was the child of your new skin, the heart
that learned its rhythm from the pulse of the sea.
I had his face, but I belonged to you.
It was you who taught me the comforts of sadness,
my tiny hands covered in the despair of your tears.
You strapped me to your chest and climbed
out of a life steeped in secrecy, into a decade of
feminist rallies, and learning how to roar,
but the weight of your sorrow had stained us both.
You hit me once, when I was six years old and I hit back.
We sat at the bottom of the steps together and cried.

By Your Side

I have been in a bleak place lately.  It is a familiar place, a place of introspection where I can try to figure out what is bringing on the sadness.  I thought it was because of the shit storm of rejections I have been getting, but they were just the cap on feelings that were already dragging me under.  I have been feeling overwhelmed for so long.

After coming to the conclusion that it isn’t the rejections that are pulling me into the clutches of sorrow, I had to stop and breathe and look behind my eyes to see what has been troubling me.  This can, at times, be a herculean task, as I seem to be troubled far too often, and it is never just one thing. But, I have become good at peeling away the layers, seeing what lurks beneath.
Continue reading “By Your Side”

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