Heal Not Her Dark Eyes

Heal not my dark eyes.

I look at you as I am.

One who once

skipped

with the spirit of a child

slipped

with lack of grace

and then giggled

as I wiped the dirt from my knees.

But I am older now,

tired, somewhat burdened

and often scared.

This weight I carry can be tiring for all of us,

wouldn’t you agree?

Do not misunderstand my sadness,

my desire to sometimes want something other.

So grateful is my soul.

Yet my mind is oft fooled by a biology,

a trickery that boomerangs back

to remind

that contentment is not a constant,

sometimes only a momentary pleasure,

true for most, but somehow felt

with such depth

that I sometimes wonder

if feeling deeply is to be connected

with the suffering of all God’s people

and now I, like my Lord, toil for peace and hope for them.

Thus I am graced with a drive to give my time, my love

when I might be otherwise be indifferent.

Do not mistake my darkness.

I am simply one humbled and broken,

weary, somewhat bitter,

carrying a mind, once keen and able,

now stolen and misplaced,

Replaced

by a blank page – oh, such frightful blankness –

as it waits for words,

words hard to muster,

harder yet to say,

in an existence where I fancy

to know how to speak when with another.

Thus I am graced with expression when I might otherwise feel silenced.

Do not mistake my bitterness.

Where is the talent,

ingenuity, intellect of the past?

My lost ability to be a pioneer?

Memories of brilliance

jerk and flare,

taunting me to return,

to creep out from a relegated simplicity

that I boast

only if I lie to say I, the thinker,

am now a monk, richer from the wear.

Thus I am graced with humility,

an unassuming nature,

when I may otherwise have been pretentious.

Do not mistake my reasoning.

I write not for pity.

I write to let out my sadness,

chase out my darkness,

refuse that bitterness, and

to scream out the silence, the pain

of so many

with an honest craving,

a deep, quiet whisper

prayed

that my life may be useful in some way.

I now possess the fight to give back,

to give voice to those ashamed and lonely,

to be pure and genuine in my love.

Thus I am blessed to have purpose

when I may otherwise have felt unnecessary.

Do not mistake my incoherence.

I write

as this page is my friend in the lonesome hours

else the shadow of my hand

rages to a frightful enemy

in the hours I sleep awake.

I may speak

in circles and curves

that dance around some

in an incomprehensible manner,

reaching only the few who understand me,

but now graced by the friendship

of a Chosen few

who nurture and give God’s love to me

as they do others.

Thus I am graced with a connection with those

who know of Christ and His reasons.

Now I possess a fellowship when I may have otherwise been alone.

Do not fear for me either.

Now all stated,

something akin to relief unfolds

and I look to a horizon quite remarkable

sure to come

if I do not fight, fight, fight it all away,

if I remember

that suffering is what it is

and that chasing constant happiness is a fools game –

a knowledge that I think some of you may understand.

Thus, I am given a wisdom that comes early in life

when it might have otherwise come to me much too late.

So,

heal not these dark eyes.

I look at you as I am.

I look out

unafraid and accepting

the me I have become

now somehow at peace to have just looked at you

as I am.