I barely touch my roots
Nothing feels unusual,
fingers dig down when I am uncertain,
to blur my arms until I lose sight of them,
from beneath the rubbles, I resurrect a familiar red box.
A red box filled with letters
if read twice
these cardiac chambers could disintegrate.
Old birthday cards
Not coveting my eyes in titanium white
wearing a sickly yellow dress, instead
Photographs once brightly colored
now dressed in monochrome,
I once saw hues
that murmured rage
but never danced with crimson
When gripped by doubt,
I touch my thorny roots,
sharp scales slice open my chest,
my lungs thrust against my rib cage,
bones stretching skin,
every piece of me grounded
every organ but two,
eyes, mine.Eyes sit comfortably round,
weight on the top of my head,
heavy with doubt,
diluted with uncertainty,
amplifying to unsettle my orbits
who were a kind
welcoming home to disintegrating eyes
And just like any home,
grew tired of tinted eyes,
their minimal duality,
the perpetual rage they caged
my orbits dare not stop them
I never asked for this vision,
all I was brave enough to see was you
holding a bag dense with eyes,
struggling to empty it
in my flooding orbits,
extending beyond my vacant sight.
Approaching a chest wide open,
two open palms,
each bearing an eye.
I never asked for this vision.
He told me “try my cornea”
She told me “let your perception go,
You pushed your eyes onto my face
my orbits made them fit,
until stories drooled across my cheeks
Eyes that look inward
you would never hear their shrieks
not all beautiful or illuminated
some hardly able to greet a flicker
others eternally dark.
You kept on pouring eyes,
I did not understand,
could not tell you to stop,
I did not want you to stop
I saw through them all.
I saw how broken eyes rearrange heart strings
make it strum differently
I saw eyes that drowned with the ocean among secrets and salt
I saw through deceased eyes,
how lonely they felt.
veiled you and me
feet submerged in wandering eyes,
palms and bag finally empty.
You told me before you left,
your curiosity when you kept your eyes with me
In your eyes rust cried to hear every verse,
but they never felt the poetic kiss.
Ali, A. K. 2019. “.أبصار” AGITATE! 1: https://agitatejournal.org/article/أبصار/.