Looking from the Inside

This poem stems from a memory I have from my sighted days. On a small patch of wasteland in the city of Swansea, Wales, there was a shopping trolley / cart, upside down with flames from some odds and ends that had been set alight, licking at its metal mesh.

Looking from the Inside

I cannot begin to describe
to you, the misery of the burning bars -
vainly striving to contain the fire.

Created to contain, but deceived — not told
of the blistering commodity to be their charge;
summer flames biting at the vapours of a winter night.

I could have seen the dawn
but for the darkness
clouding my eyes.

Ssitting by this memory
I evoke a cup of tea
and the wrapping

from a coffee cream,
and I construct reality,
from what used to be
a dream.

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