CCJC: Audio Podcast Episode 00063, Season 2
Within the Cajun Chronicles Podcast Corporation, a quiet kinship blossoms alongside our shared heritages – a deep affection for poetry. The arrival of spring and especially April’s poetic call, resonates deeply with our team.
Perhaps it’s the weight of living in an increasingly uncertain world, where each dawn seems to unveil a fresh, unexpected shocking plot twist, that has drawn us this year to more introspective verse. Perhaps you’ve read some of our staff biographies, but have you truly glimpsed into the depths of who we are?
We think the only way you can achieve this might be through a more lyrical poetic voice from each of us. This one is from our very own Co-Producer – Francoise LeBlanc.
Tapping White Cane Seeing Sweet Nothings
When my world went dark, but didn’t lose the hush of humid night,
But I still shiver in the stark memory of my abrupt severing of light.
I miss vibrant hues, ochre orange dust, and sharp relief of shade, lost in the dark.
There in the war time chaos, a piece of me was lost, a piece of me was torn,
Leaving a life-long void behind, stepping away from a world I might forever mourn.
The unseen new world now whispers sweet nothings to my weary soul.
Coming white-cane home to NOLA, the Crescent City steeped in surround sound,
Was a strange nuance of jazzy blue symphony on hallowed college days ground.
The rumble grumble clatter of the old time streetcars, sharp, nostalgic, and near,
The distant Treme brass bands, both comforting and destined to endure.
My brown eyes, once feasting on lacey hanging ferns and blackened wrought-iron lace,
Navigated now distorted solely by altered by being unsighted in this time and space.
The unseen new world now whispers sweet nothings to my non-seeing soul.
The familiar lemon scents, now in a non-visual understanding a bittersweet embrace,
Heavy sweetness guessing game of Sweetbay Magnolias’ adaptable white rose grace.
The pungent peppery tang of roll boiling pot of seafood spices linger near,
Evoked all the missing world I still hold and will forever find so very dear.
Almost a phantom missing limb etched in my dream brain of lost sights,
A horizon just barely perceptive, still haunting the edges of the sleepless nights.
Unseen scents of my new world now whisper sweet nothings to an unconscious soul.
The touch of old and new friends and loved ones, a language new learned,
Comfort of truly knowing the contours of a face, a hand comfortingly returned.
Memorizing their voices, all anchors in a shifting and often confusing sound wave sea,
One stroke brush painting my mind cherished pictures I can no longer visually see.
Oh the Cajun heartache, the disappointing longing to still one more time behold,
Vibrant cat’s tail oval brush of the stories they once told and still need to be told.
With just a dagger brush glance, a smile, an all-knowing glare or stare,
Now left to being lost figments of imagination swishing in empty air.
The unseen new world now whispers sweet nothings to my touch and voice soul.
I hear music pulsing on every corner along making my tap tap way, a living thing,
Rockin’ Dopsie’s rhythm n’ Gatemouth Brown sounds fill my heart spirit sing.
But even in the joy, a questionable shadow backup band is ear worm mind played,
Black n’ white film version of A Streetcar Named Desire where colors used to cascade.
I still move to the beat, but longingly miss the sight of the joyful audience sway,
Barely-holding-it-together tourist dancers street twirling at the close of my days.
Music beyond visual spectacle unseen world whispers sweet nothings to my weary soul.
My courtyard garden’s fragrance, a Golden Retriever solace Jo-El and I find,
The velvety touch, the leafy textures of orchids and herb plants intertwined.
Memories held in the ghost orchid’s vibrant imagined hues,
Jewel streaked emerald leaves of American Elephant’s foot, kissed by the morning dews.
Now only vanilla Ladies’ tresses scent orchids remain, elusive runaway fragrant traces,
Of the beauty is not really lost, in all of my still beloved familiar places.
Soul touching unseen sensations newly whispers sweet nothings in my weary soul.
As a motivational speaker I hear about resilience, strength I have displayed,
But deep inside there is still a fragile spirit that sometimes can be swayed.
The constant effort is necessary for guide-dog Jo-El and I do to map the unseen world,
Makes my occasional vulnerability, tightly cradle protective inward curled.
Fears of stumbling and falling, of losing independence rise up anew,
All are constant daily reminders of all I cannot easily do, but laughingly still do.
Reliance on scent & touch in unseen new world’s sweet nothings lift my weary soul.
Yet in the kindness of strangers and teacher, the unwavering compassionate hand,
Fragile hopes and empathy I only now have begun to share and understand.
This multicultural city, centuries still alive even the times of darkest of dark,
Holds echoes of a future, where continued life’s hurricanes will be leaving a mark.
To always be strong enough to rebuild life, not as it was before,
But with a deeper sense of being better once again forevermore.
Vulnerability & strength unseen in the new world shouts sweet nothings to my weary soul.
I hope to teach everyone everywhere to listen closer, to feel with greater grace,
And find new community perspectives in this cherished changing Louisiana place.
Lights at the end of the life tunnel for me may be gone, but a new strength took hold,
Shouting out a thousand stories told, a thousand more brave ones left yet untold.
The joyful unseen new world now whispers sweet nothings of new ways to my weary soul.
— Francoise LeBlanc © 2025
Our poems, lyrics, recipes, and tales are inspired by real Louisiana and New Orleans history and non-fictional stories, but some details may have been spiced up for a good story. While we've respected the truth, a bit of creative license could have been used. Please note that all characters may be based on real people, but their identities in some cases have been Avatar masked for privacy. Others are fictional characters with connections to Louisiana.
A Word of Wisdom:
As you read, remember history and real life is a complex mix of joy, sorrow, triumph, and tragedy. While we may have (or not) added a bit of fiction, the core message remains: the human spirit's power to endure, adapt, and overcome.
© Jerilee Wei 2025 All Rights Reserved.
Share this post