Essay: Sunday Nights

I feel the old sadness in my eyes, like the forefront of sleep. I am a boy again, the one who was bullied at school, who felt daily the enforced and jagged shame of blindness. The gears turned in the clock like cruel instruments reserved only for the lost. And at the windows a darkness of unreserved memories and rain.

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Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

0 thoughts on “Essay: Sunday Nights”

  1. Severe vitamin C deficiency manifests in the dissolution of scar tissue, so that all old wounds re-open. What deficiency exists when old emotional wounds re-emerge gaping and fresh?

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