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Poem

When I think about my eyes…I am filled with adulation for like many of my body parts…they’re a marvel of creation.

Allowing me with just a turn of my head to see the world around me.
Opening my heart and mind to the beauty that surrounds me.

But when I look at you, however, I find there is a limit to what my eyes can see.
The same limitations, I imagine, your eyes have…when you look at me.

At the moment you and I meet…the instant we begin…I can see if you’re old or young, tall or short…I can see the color of our skin.

These things my eyes can see from up close or even from afar…but what my eyes are unable to see…is what makes you who you are.

What I see is the exterior, a semblance…a facade…I cannot see what religion you are…I can’t see if you even believe in God. 

I can’t see what your parents were like, where you grew up, if you have enough food to eat.
I can’t see if you’re married, raising children by yourself, scraping by to make ends meet.

I cannot see the sexual preferences you were born with, if your brain work fast…or slow…I cannot see the experiences you’ve had in life or the gender you might be struggling to know.

My eyes can only see so much…because the last time that I checked…who you are is where all the things I can’t see intersect.

I wish there was a way to see how all these different part of you align…to view with a bit of clarity the way they intertwine.

If I did perhaps I’d be more accepting…perhaps I wouldn’t begrudge…perhaps if my eyes could see a little more…a little clearer…I’d be less likely to misjudge.

Perhaps this simple wish will, one day, come to be…until then I’ll try to remember there is so much more to you than what my eyes first see.

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