How can I describe the feeling of the light?
It was painful. It stung.
The cloth stuck to my face, being bound to the skin by the glue of sweat, tears and dirt. They merely tugged it and shoved me off the moving truck.
I was blin(more)ded so I could not see the road, but I had been in the bed of a truck and now I was falling.
Now long accustomed to their beatings I was able to brace myself. That and, thankfully, one of the souls must have been kinder than the others because I was shoved off to the side so I landed in dirt.
The full breath I had taken was punched from my lungs by the impact. The tight clutching posture I had immediately assumed preserved me from breakage.
Lying on the liberal soil I dared not open my eyes.
A mere crack in the lids ushered in a tremendous wave of tear wrenching sting.
My skin registered great heat, I knew the sky was clear and bright.
Leaving my eyes pressed closed severely I felt my way along for some sort of shady spot.
Not far away, over a scratchy bit of ground I found it. Feeling the coolness of its shade and the unforgiving knuckles of its roots I knew it was a tree. I placed my palms on the broken, wrinkled skin of a tree.
There I lay with the blindfold over my eyes until night.
At night I peeled it off and tossed it away. The gentle moon and stars forgave my eyes for their vulnerability .
The night was bleary but bright. Having lived blind for length of my captivity, the light of the moon was well enough.
They'd hoped to break me. They only made me a stronger revolutionary.