My Eyes Are Veiled

My eyes are veiled No hint of wild seduction No hungry look of passion No gleam of admiration No twinkle of satisfaction My eyes are veiled Nothing from my soul passes through The curtains of this window are drawn I peek through unseeing Colorblind to the hues Selective of the view I peek unseeing My eyes refuse to betray me Veiled by wet black lashes That dam my tears The salt of surfaced fears My eyes are veiled I will not unveil Not my eyes Not my dress Impervious to caress Burka bondaged am I Passion urges, I deny My eyes are veiled… My lashes will part Eyes revealing my heart My soul will lay bare Exposed without care For the one Whose love is true Tell me, is that someone... You? Eileen Manassian A word of caution: The beauty of poetry is that there is inherent mystery in it. That's why we ask our students this question: "What do you THINK the author meant?" Do we ever truly know? If we did...there wouldn't be so many books written by authors trying to decipher Shakespeare's mind...trying to determine who the mistress was that he wrote about...who was the young youth that he idolized. Did he have homosexual tendencies? If we were to know all of this...he poems would lose that sense of wonder. Let the mystery remain mysterious...