When I read Othello with my child’s eyes, I saw a master’s artistry at work;
Foul, devil plots, a hopeless love, a monster created but refused.
Victims and sinners alike debased, I saw worlds crushed and a giant fall.
Convinced of character and poetic muse, I was led through vague words to light passages;
The actions sparked, igniting feeling and sympathy.
As I read Othello with my adult eyes, I saw an artist bargaining with his theme;
His faceless blocks moved to a sympathy Mass,
Searching for learning I found divested acts, all meaning and diversity consumed;
My awareness full, so was I then led back and the subject failed.
As I reflect the reading of Othello, two journeys made, one path to follow,
A world was opened through my child’s eyes, for adult eyes to swallow.