Peter’s nystagmus story comes in the form of a poem.
Thank you for sharing, Peter
And the boy inside me still cries
Something is wrong with my eyes.
At birth the angels left a rare mark,
and the boy inside me still cries.
My parents searched for whys.
Is he blind? Will his world be dark?
Something is wrong with my eyes.
There’s no cure, the doctors advise,
his life will follow a difficult arc,
and the boy inside me still cries.
Bullied and bruised, I wore a disguise,
to shield me from stares and remarks.
Something is wrong with my eyes.
I found ways to cope and improvise,
quelling the urge to end my life’s walk,
and the boy inside me still cries.
It’s been six decades now. I seldom sigh.
What I can do is my trademark.
Something is wrong with my eyes,
and the boy inside me still cries.
