On sleepless nights, I close my eyes,

And think of yours,

I dream in wake,

Of what could be, of all I wish.

 

On restless days, I close my eyes,

And wish for yours,

Upon unbounded soil,

And I can’t open them again.

 

On cold nights, I close my eyes,

And consolidate the rain,

That strikes the window,

Attackers to the glass,

Intruders, piercing with the wind,

Drawing down the front of my eyes,

To that structure of stone and blood,

To where you can see it, if you look.

 

On warm days, I look to the ocean,

Reflected by the sky, and wonder,

Of all time I have wasted,

Looking at you, with closed eyes,

Having not once seen, what you see.

Do I really look like that?

 

 


 

 

You expect of the world what a child would. You see things twice, maybe three times. You would believe everything to be vast and formidable, teething with future and undiscovered meaning. A child sees the world with like eyes. A child believes the world to be his playground, and understands not the soils of heartbreak, pain, war, famine, poverty. You must understand this better than anyone else, no? You hide your pain, does it shame you? The tears that streak down your face betray your resolve, my friend. That child within you seeks to break free, to return to a state of hope and contentment that has evaded us since we could call ourselves children. 

 

Open your eyes and look at your hand. The creases in your palm mapping what was and what could have been. The veins; defining the hills on the plains of your pores, the nails, split and broken like mountains between plates. You are stronger than this. You are no child today, so do not shed your tears as they do. These hands have held on to what cannot be lost, and have let go what can no longer be carried. These hands have felt the warmth of another, and they remember when their creases met yours for the final time. They recall the cold that followed. These hands remember who that person used to be, and they will suffer for it more than you. The cold of indifference is unbearable, but you must listen. Time is not on our side. Open your eyes, and look.

 

 


 

 

 

 

visual

 

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March 4, 2019

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