Joan's poems

I am blind.
I cannot see your colour or your race.
Your fine attire, your riches
Or your rags.
I cannot see your face.

I am deaf.
I cannot hear your tongue
Or what you say.
Whether it is high or low.
Whether I should stay or go.

It is only your act.
Direct, like sun warming my skin.
Generous, like earth's fruit feeding me.
For this I need not hear or see.

Joan Mac Dougall