Born Blind
by Libby Kurz
The things we see every day
are the things we never see at all.
–G.K. Chesterton
We were born blind, but God
has kissed our eyes
with the mercy of His mouth
and the dry dirt of the earth.
Every day, He places
the soft pad of His finger
upon our fragile eyelids.
Open, He says. Forget
that you are beggars.
In His kindness, He has
given us great pleasure--
Do you not see it?
It’s as plain as mud,
as sour as spit,
as common as water
splashing against your face.
It’s the trees breaking open
outside your own window--
its white petals that taste
like angels, its dark roots
that constantly elude you.
It’s as ordinary as your own body,
that slow vessel marked
by the gravity of time.
Even your scars
are pictures drawn
on the coarse sands
of your flesh.
Even your scars shine
upon blemished skin.
Speak for yourself
Who has healed you—
Now go and tell.
Libby Kurz is a writer, poet, registered nurse, and US Air Force veteran. She holds a BS in Nursing from UNC-Charlotte and an MFA in Creative Writing from National University. Her work has appeared in Ruminate, Relief Journal, Driftwood Press, and Literary Mama, among others. Her poetry was awarded first prize in the New Voices category of the Poetry Society of Virginia’s 2017 Contest, and in 2019, Finishing Line Press published her poetry chapbook, The Heart Room, which chronicles her experiences working as a cardiothoracic nurse in Norfolk, Virginia. She currently teaches poetry and trauma writing workshops for The Muse Writers Center. After a decade of moving cross-country with the military, she resides in Virginia Beach with her husband, three children, and 100-lb lap dog. She’s currently at work on a memoir about violence, sexuality, and faith.
