The Blind Side

When the dying sun seems like

a colored blob just out of your reach;

and you start to expect warmth

to emanate from sunny colored liquids;

When the white crescent moon seems like

a monstrous scar on the back of the sky; 

and you feel that no light will ever touch 

the tattered fabric of your face;

I say

welcome, to the blind side.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The blind side is a bad place. When we can't see the good in a day. A very strong poem with powerful statements. We must keep some good in sight or we will be the cattle waiting for the slaughter. A excellent poem.
Coyote