I can hear the eagles;
sense them above me.
But only imagine strange flight.
I clap, I clap,
beating of wingspan, lifting of bodies;
dreadful beauty denied to me
who has no sight.

My bowl is empty
and so is my belly.
Footsteps passing, voices laughing:
‘I hunger, I hunger -
'Have mercy on a blind beggar’.
Sound of small coin,
enough perhaps for barley loaf.

The sun is so hot
And down here in the dust
I eat more of that than bread.
‘I thirst, I thirst -
Please help me to the brook.’
Drinking of the city’s sluice,
But slaked a while at least.

This then is the sum of life:
Cast on the roadside like
barleycorn amidst the stones;
I die, I die.
Living is not existence
in the torment of this soul,
poor blind Bartimaeus.

A crowd is passing near the city.
Jesus! – I’ve heard of deeds:
I’m told you heal, make whole.
I cry, I cry
Oh! Please help me to live,
not begging for alms
but walking and working.

‘Have mercy on me
Longed for Messiah
Son of David, have mercy.’
“Be quiet, be quiet;
he’s too busy and
kings don’t carry money.
There’s nothing here for you”.

No! I shall cry out
or these stones will do it for me:
‘Jesus, Son of David, Kyrie Eleison’
He calls, he calls.
And now the crowd change tone
“My hand”; “up here”
“He heard you moan.”

I cast aside my rags
And was guided by hands invisible
“What can I do for you”
he said, he said.
I might have asked the world, but knew
this was not his to give, nor mine to take.
Strange peace in that last moment of blindness.

‘My rabbi’, I said, ‘I want to see’.
‘Open up horizons
that never were when I was blind.’
I saw, I saw:
and instantly his face appeared
and I laughed and cried,
and died, and was re-born.

Is that a tree, a bird, a wing?
Now there’s the road,
and there’s my Lord. Quickly now.
I ran, I ran;
how could I not but follow
in the footsteps of the One
who lighted my path.

And you who listen to my joy;
how will you respond
as darkness creeps?
‘Father, Father.’
‘We would see more of him
in whom we live and move
and have our being.’