Losing Focus

We blur all our lines

sometimes.

We cover up our eyes

and hide.

We smother our own words

and I have heard

we keep ourselves inside.

 

Some days

all we see

is just a scene,

viewed on an old movie screen.

From a distance,

small and out of focus,

no wonder we can’t see.

 

When we don’t seem to end

where we begin,

so full of holes

the cold gets in

and we don’t know

that who we touch

feel it so much.

 

Separated by no lines at all,

only by a wall

of drifting fog.

Amputated from ourselves,

afraid to look,

so we can’t tell,

what line is keeping

us from Hell.

No divine vision.

 

A bathroom mirror

covered with steam,

reflects only

the vaguest dream.

The window pane

opaque with frost,

cannot show us

what we have lost.

And when we look

back at our past,

we look as though

through old stained glass.

The future, too,

we thus occlude,

blinded eyes to what is true.

 

I see you there,

so far away.

A smudge of darkness

against the day.

Blink my eyes,

reach out my hands,

to see if I can touch you, and

break this fugue

to give us one,

dividing line we’ve overcome.

 

The fog might lift,

the scales might fall

and we might see it all.

The movie plays

all crystal clear

and maybe we can face our fear.

 

HG – 2019

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