Eyes Vignette

A short vignette about how eyes reflect a person's being. More specifically, I compare my family of four's eyes to the four seasons.

  Eyes are more than just an iris matched hand in hand with a pupil. They do more than give and take light. They are constantly living; expressing each individual’s souls, giving and taking, gripping and giving in. They write their own stories with an electrical ink, shaping words silently. Each person’s eyes are unique, and I can see this even within my own family.

    My father’s eyes are a timeline. Each circumstance and memory is imbedded in them; engraved deeply and stubbornly within each speck and line. A sparkle used to exist there; it reveals itself only rarely. Now, the memories and pain of the years have blurred out the clear brightness. Yet his eyes are still chocolate; smooth, introverted, and warm. They contemplate everything they set their gaze upon, and though faded with exhaustion, the wheels of intelligence still clearly turn within them. He smiles, and the tired wrinkles of his deep olive skin morph into kind lines around his eyes, and the melanin tone creeping into the whites of his eyes is calming; like freshly warmed butter on toast when you feel under the weather. His eyes are autumn, old and lovely.

    My younger brother’s eyes don’t understand conformity. They are the epitome of paradox. They split from our group with their icy blue stare, mirroring my grandmother’s, as if looking towards the past as a role model. Yet my brother’s eyes hold a look that does not match that philosophy. They are bright and curious, slicing into the future with aggression and drive. Stubborn, azul orbs, clashing against the pale, fleshy skin that surrounds them. They smile and crinkle plenty, but a hidden sadness peeks out now and then. When that happens, his eyes turn into wells of hurt, and all you can do is pray. His eyes are winter, icy and bright.

    My eyes. Intricate; colored with a flood of deep hazel. Undecided between greens and browns. They fight the sun, glowing golden under light, set fierce and deep with courage and delicate creativity. They wonder with naive curiosity at the surrounding dark world, searching for the little details that make us who we are. They pulse widely, irises clashing against white innocence, darting, loving the variety of things around them. Rimmed with greens, they darken to brown as they concentrate, pooling to black in the center. Expressions help define the meanings they try to reveal, changing quickly and easily. My eyes are springtime, fluctuating and energetic.

My mother’s eyes are birds. They flit lightly, exploring and quick, always with a hopeful aura. They are like the sunshine, yellow buttercups, golden tree trunks at the break of morning. A deep brown, they appear gold with her soul behind them. Unafraid of emotion, they too change quickly and easily, but are more willing to show her soul. Youth is stored in them, easygoing nature is prominent. Sometimes I’m convinced they won’t ever die out; maybe they’ll hold their glow until the end of time. Though maturity shows through her smile creases and focus, it is paired contrastedly with childish happiness. Her eyes are powered by the ever burning passion of a driven spirit and unending Godly joy, as if the sun itself were behind them. They match her warm scent and lovely personality. My mother’s eyes are summertime, light and surreal. I look to them for comfort and love, for hope and kindness. Our eyes hold tight, hers understanding what mine are displaying; knowing with motherly instinct what I need. I’m blessed and thank the Lord everyday for my mother’s eyes and vibrant life. They truly show her heart, which is what eyes do best.

Author's Note

What do you think of the descriptions? Strengths, weaknesses? Opinions? How would you describe your own eyes?

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A very entertaining poem.
"I’m blessed and thank the Lord everyday for my mother’s eyes and vibrant life. They truly show her heart, which is what eyes do best."
The eyes can tell many things. I have hazel eyes. Changes color with clothing. I liked to watch the eyes. You know if someone is up to good or not. I liked how you described family and led to the very nice closing of the poetry. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote