Today, I wrote a poem about how, as people living in the hectic and fast-paced 21st century, we never take time to look at one another, and how our perceptions of the world can alter our ability to see beauty in others as our minds age. I think that is what our piece is about, and the poem I wrote has helped to distill and explain that for me.
The last time you looked closely at me
when i look close at your tears
i see a million rivers run down
the corrugated map of your face
torrents that rush from place to place
when i look close at your hands
i see all has graced the surface of your skin
twigs, notes, kisses and keys
and, occasionally, the touch of me
when i look close at your back
i see the bones that hold you together
a structure of smashed cups and plates
glued together and put back in place
when i look close at your hair
an earthy light of dusk sits on the strands
and your hand delves into the messes
an attempt to calm your stresses
when i look close at your eyes
i am allowed to pull apart your wall
and reside inside the place you call home
to soften and heal your repressed moans
but the last time i looked closely at you
was in a time of ignorance i cannot recall
i am now drowning in injustices of this Earth
i cannot see a fire burning above the hearth
and the last time you looked closely at me
was when there was one thing you’d need
a vessel with which to fill your torment
until you are filled with great repent
now we feast our tiring minds
on ever-lighted shards of glass
clutched between searching fingers
where each other’s bodies once lingered.
Eden Rickson
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