Blinding Hands
by Audrey Weibell I. The hands that now grip so painfully had once seemed soft. They blocked the things you’d rather not see like horse blinders keeping your focus on what matters. You trusted the hands. They pointed to your shortcomings, problems your useless eyes wouldn’t see. The hands helped you succeed. Sight. Seeing. Protection. Warning. Enlightenment. Guiding. But then one day the hands turned from sweet to firm. Direct. Controlling. Harsh. Colors, shapes and movement waned. I am trapped. Trapped! TRAPPED! Stuck with nowhere to go. No way to find any peace of mind. Blinded by the looming hands. You don’t know what or why. Don’t have the strength to pry them open from your eyes. No sight. Can’t see. No protection. No Warning. No enlightenment. No Guidance. Their toxic stench burns the oxygen in your head leaving fearful thoughts to fester. “We’re not going anywhere,” they say. “You invited us. Remember?” Stumbling. Falling. Tripping. Crying. Dying. Stuck. Stuck! STUCK! MAKE IT STOP. Please make it stop. “You know we can’t do that,” they say. Scattered thoughts. Short attention span. Chaos. Am I insane? Are the hands still there or am I blind. Blind! BLIND! The hands that now grip so painfully had once seemed soft. Their deception, comforting. The cage that traps you, secure. How long will you feel your way around the dark? Lash. Tear. The scars don’t fade no matter how badly you want them to. […]