The man who could not see Part 1

Yesterday, I saw a man who could not see.

He had only skin where his eyes should be.

Yet he seemed to stare right at me.

He stared hard as if there was something he could see.

I asked the man what he sought, but he told me to carry on.

He did not need much from one like me.

Aback, his answer had taken me.

Why, sir, do you say such a thing?

The man smiled a coy smile, still his face intent on mine.

He cleared his throat to buy some time, but speak, he eventually did.

He said he could not be helped by one who had no sight.

Perplexed, I asked what made him think I was unseeing.

I have heard your steps quite haphazardly random.

Surely, one who sees would know how dangerous it is to walk so quickly in such darkness.

I am certain you have no sight, but whether that impediment is coupled with poor thinking,

I cannot be sure. For surely a sensible man would not continue such foolish stepping.

Sir, I interjected. It is midday, and the sun is high in the sky. It is neither dark nor dangerous to walk.

I am fetching bails of hay to store for winter before the day is out. Can you not feel the sun’s warmth

on your skin?