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