I am told I am forgiven. 

I have come home 

to the tongues cut for truth; 

to eyes plucked for vision 

on a path of woven bones 

I cannot hear their 

welcoming songs I cannot see 

rising from the depths of their souls 

the green shoots of the spirit 

but

their hands hold me with such wonder 

to be their voice, their guide  

I who am blind and dumb 

to the world they offer

to any passing stranger they touch