Turn a Blind Eye

There is not enough coffee in the world

to drown my despair

listening to the morning news

in our new covid era.

I take my daily dosage

in two-hour increments

doled out carefully from NPR,

in hope the dulcet tones

and investment in objective things,

like science

and education,

can soothe the anxiety

that jumps into my ribcage

to shake my heart.

 

But this morning I could not dilute

the blind rage –

and by that I mean the rage of a

partially sighted person –

that built

every time I heard someone end a story

with a quip about

turning a blind eye.

I counted at least three –

though perhaps one

was about being blindsided.

 

My eyes may be going blind

but I am not ignorant.

And whether I’m facing

the radio or turned towards

the cat purring beside me

I can be aware

of injustice.

 

So can you.

If you choose.