The blur begins where certainty ends.

Sprint off into a blur,

I sometimes cannot see.

I talk to my eye doctor.

He asks,

What are your needs?

I say, I need new lenses.

Why? These are fine,

He says, denying my claim.

I retort,

Doctor, but I cannot see

the ignorance in me.

Help me, please.

I do not like not knowing.

What I do not know.

It’s scary running fast

forward

with scissors in my hand.

You know I fall.

Grace is not my name.

I will get hurt.

I might miss the chance

to be with that

someone special

in that

special place

beneath my breast

where my blood is pumped

fresh.

I might even get wet.

No life jacket.

I do fret.