Kaleidoscope Eyes

Our eyes, like a kaleidoscope to the world unconsciously painting images that communicate with our brain. Familiar, and the unfamiliar. To seek the meaning behind what has come to be, these images before you, this person looking back to you, what have their eyes seen? A weathered man walking with calloused hands and dirty clothes, teeth left neglected, no less than the exposed wound on his arm. I can almost taste the pain as he struggles with each stride, a leg that would be better off gone. This man behind the mangy beard, he has the same blood as I. I wonder how he got here, on the streets, trading a pillow for a concrete cot and a night light for a street light. Is he tormented by mental illness? A victim of street medication, I don’t believe this is a choice of the well. Streets serving as an open asylum, they have no doors to hide behind, no fortress to shadow the darkness. The walls we live behind, the “things” we fill them with, they make us a part of the standard, the standard of the “norm”. Awe lucky I am, born to a hard working middle class family with more than just necessities. I am no better, I may be worse…. Born entitled to the hot water that hits my chest on skin washed just yesterday, clothes that smell of detergent, food never far from my palate and a taste for alcohol. I was created by no control of my own, my smile a product of my genetics, my brain free to learn to its own capacity. I can manipulate my outward appearance changing what your eyes will see, I can work what was given to me, but I cannot change what made me. I can strive to achieve or simply survive. I can survive behind walls, or on the streets. I can seek help, or be a slave to my own demons. I will still walk with the same soul and heart that beats the same blood, four walls do not define me. Walls that can be destroyed by Mother Nature herself. Look to the man with tired eyes, a map different than yours, but look with understanding and empathy. I have yet to travel to the end of my road and I can’t foresee the battles that lie ahead. I must keep my ears to listen to another in need. My hands must give when I receive. I believe it is the way to be, as it has been given to me.

© 2014 Mercedes Rae Dúmmer

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Reviews

An owl on the moon

What a beautiful, bittersweet poem.... so moving and challenging... and yes, to whom much is given much is required... We all can lift... all can give something...all can encourage and stand with those who are struggling... falling... Help us know that it's possible.. that the world can glow bright with hope... though it seems so dark at times... Thank you.. thank you for your words.

Posted 10 Years Ago

Ai Lun

I love the subtle, delicate rhyme and rhythm within this piece! It's truly what I like in a poem :)

Posted 10 Years Ago

NeiL ArandA

The real you is what really defines you. Not the walls that we erected around us or the stuffs that we surrounds ourselves with. I like your sense of honesty and compassion here. I see it spilled all over your piece. You appreciates your humble beginnings and the blessing that has been bestowed upon you while you see others were not as bless and as fortunate as you are but you felt compassion and empathy towards them.
" I must keep my ears to listen to another in need. My hands must give when I receive. I believe it is the way to be, as it has been given to me. "
I love your conclusion here ...It could have been you instead of them. And you want to make a difference because you believe that you can and you are place their by divine fate... And instead of turning a blind eye you're willing to reach out ... Because your personal conviction weighs heavily in your heart ...
I'm very impress here Mercedes... If this is your first piece. You're up for a good start. Please continue your writings .... The Lonely Sparrow