Crossing the Street

Crossing the Street

This morning I was walking down the sidewalk.

As I came to the street corner, I noticed a man

on the opposite side.

He was an older man, wearing a bright

jacket with  yellow colour.

As I saw the guide dog and the walking stick

he carried, I realized he was blind.

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When the light changed and I walked

toward him he remained still.

I began to worry.

Was something wrong with the dog?

The walk signal was unusual,

not affixed to the light post;

it hung from above, smaller than normal.

Perhaps the dog didn’t recognize it.

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When I reached his corner

I realized he was holding a large laminated card

attached to his wrist by a rubber band.

In typed print it read:

I am BLIND and DEAF.

I need your help crossing the street.

 THANK YOU.

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I decided to help him. All I could do

was guiding him silently, as best I could.

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When we were safely on the far side

of the street, he let my arm go and

said something unintelligible,

sounds not fully formed into words

he could not hear.

I knew he was thanking me.

I could not say what

I wanted back to him.

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All day long I have been appreciating

the little tings. The wonderful feeling

when I felt the warm summer sun

in my face. The children's sound coming

from the park. The immense elation

and freedom on this world

full of colour and beauty.

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Whatever burdens I have to bear,

I am so very, very fortunate to be here.

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 ..and it had been an honour to help him.