Why I Don’t Wear Glasses

Perhaps to see
the world’s blur
in a sharper blur
is what amazes me.
And I favor life
through a gloomy set
of fellow mist,
through my gaze—
sick and untamed.
What use would it be
to look in a clearer voice—
would I hear you
fair and undisturbed—
would I get your tears—
would I be candid with you?
I shall stay ignorant of faces
and I am yet to behold
the veil behind the veil.
I am yet to notice
white spruce,
its ever-silver leaves—
though I can still distinguish
other trees’ brown
from their red,
from yellow,
and zillions of oranges.
The fruit lingers
only for one long minute
whether you are ready
to grasp the moment
or the fruit—
ready to be witnessed
and to fall
for one last stroke
on your cloaked earth.

Writing for my life
After the Fire Rolls Through