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