At the Alabama School for the Blind,
He puts his hands

To his face and talks to them.
He tells them to see for him.

He wants to walk in fields
Of red clover, follow the rainbow’s

Arc after summer rain,
Take a delta sky

Into him and feel clean.
His hands understand.

They know history’s weight,
They won’t let him down.

When he uncovers his face,
His hands tell him where to go.

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