Heather Browne Poet Free verse

Windows

Windows
1.    

When I open the window of my eye,
I find I wrestle to open the window of my mind.
In quieting my mind’s rattle,
the window of my soul already open, feels the fresh air.

When I open the window of my mind,
I espy the dirt upon my eye.
When washed clear,
the window of my soul beholds.

When I open the window of my soul,
I see clearly the rattle of my mind and eye
not noise or view from any window.      


2.   

There’s a mark
                          on my window
                          on my glasses
                          or my eyes.
I pretend it’s the worlds.

But when I clean my windows, it’s smaller.
When I wipe my glasses it’s lighter.
When I clear my vision, 
it’s gone.


3.

Is it the view?
Or more so, is it what I am able, 
                                      willing,
                                      choosing 
to see? 


First published: Bourne Magazine

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