Blinded

I know it looks as if I cannot see—
my faxi, my mane, falls across my eyes
like a curtain of winter light.

But I miss nothing.
I feel the world in ways deeper than sight:
the shift of wind,
the softness of your breath,
the quiet truth of the moment we share.

Through this veil, I learned to listen
to the earth beneath my hooves
and to the hearts that stood beside me.
Seeing is more than opening one’s eyes;
it is understanding.

I was twenty-six when you captured me like this,
steady, wise, and gentle with time.
A year later, I left this world—
but not before reminding you
that clarity lives far beyond vision.

Do not worry about what you think I couldn’t see.
I saw everything that mattered.

In this photograph,
I stand as I was—
peaceful, present,
and guided by a kind of sight
that no light can teach.

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