Their eyesClear eyes, tansparent gates, ocean with profound tides, in and out with joy and suffering.

I want so much to read them but they are fierce and unwelcoming with me.

I can’t discern your words without the assaults. You tell me not to believe the harshness so why would I trust the kindness?

I search your eyes and I only see a trapped animal ready to bite, waiting to defend itself. I look at your stand and you seems to grow out of your limb a bow so tight! 2 strong arms, stronger than you seem to realize. A steel arrow head aiming for my heart but never my eyes. My love I can hear my bones shatter before the impact, my ribcage is no match. I hope for peace. I want to give peace.

I search for your eyes but they are so controlled.

It is in your silences I find my answers but they don’t match anything you give me. In these emotional gaps between sounds and vision in a world where touch is forbidden. You are burring my senses in the snow I remember from my country. It is often cold there but magical and wolves roam the silence in the deep wood where I used to walk with Hecate.

Their eyes were the same as yours.


5 thoughts on “THEIR EYES

  1. This piece was so real, so mesmerizing in it’s delivery of emotional imagery. The ending with the comparison of the present with the past in the gaze of another was the final hammer blow. Wow.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “You tell me not to believe the harshness so why would I trust the kindness?”

    You’re a genius, you know.

    Everyone I’ve ever known besides my Japanese-American wife and probably her father have moments of anger when they say terribly harsh things. In my family as a child, hateful, cutting, angry words were routine. My wife of 39 years is domesticating me still. Sometimes her heart says to me, “You tell me not to believe the harshness so why would I trust the kindness?” My answer, “I was raised by wolves but I’m becoming human.”

    Liked by 1 person

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