You can see the speckles when
you close your eyes. Leave them closed
for long enough and they begin
just as the rushed impression of
a morning when I wake takes
a while to clear. The clarity dazzles
at first, then smarts.
Looking with a true desire
to see clearly likewise stings.
How often have I applied the comfort
of a blindfold.
How often have you? It's taken a life
for my speckles to disappear, the light
to be welcomed in, and to finally see
pure as that desire.
So when you walk into a room
in which I am already, and
I close my eyes, they're closed in search
Close yours too, and you shall see
the way I've come to see, as the speckles
dissolve, like stars at dawn, and turn
to me . . .
James B. Nicola
If you have any thoughts on this poem, James B. Nicola would be pleased to hear them.