Ode to Vision Loss
By Donna Jean Breece
Woolen, wavering lens which permeates my narrow field of view,
Standing all alone so much has altered what I think of you.
It sometimes leaves me feeling lesser than those who clearly see,
The stony lakeshore or the little apples hanging on a tree.
Sometimes sad and angry, sometimes lonely, but ne’er without my Lord,
He leads me, holds me, and in Him alone, I am restored.
Tho’ oft I stand with shoulders straight, not at ease, prepared to block the blows,
In Him alone I do rest, and this is where my hope arose.
You do not define my future, though I do watch old dreams fade,
And you may not retain anything, that I refuse to give away.
I will never trade my love of Him for temporal things that you possess,
I march forward, onward, upward, fortified with faithfulness.