Without Your Eyes

Through your eyes, the drab leaves
of November burst with vibrant green potential
to become causeways for chlorophyll in the Spring.
Simple songs, short syllables and azure, cloud-spotted
skies reveal profound, complex meaning and telos.

Through your eyes, your blue eyes, the fall
of rain, planets dancing between twinkling
stars, hushed giggles in the twilight and the
homeless who beg for one more piece of grimy
change are more than observable occasions.

Through you eyes, they are feelings that I can
prod, poke and comprehend like knowing that this
has happened before, feeling a small ant on my
scalp and watching fuzzy black leech into color
when I stand up too quickly.

Without your eyes, I am obtuse, self-absorbed
and loud. But through your eyes, I am grounded,
hurt, happy, hollow, content, sensitive and in love.
Mysteries don’t need solutions and I understand
lyrics, space, why I cry, time, this poem and God.

Through your wonder-widened eyes that droop in
weariness and crinkle with laughter, I see the apple’s
core, the animal’s skeleton and why there is truth,
sensitivity, compassion and exhaustion. Your eyes see
beauty in monsters, meaning in Haikus and green in brown leaves.