Rembrandt’s careful eyes didn’t betray him
Like he’d always feared in time they would
His painted fascination, drowning pools of umber
With flashes of thin splashed mink-haired white
Mouth, ears, hands, high foreheads, soft necks
All sensed through shared visions of a master
For all but imagined Tobias and his blind father
Healed by smeared fish bile at Raphael’s advice
Tobias’ kind eyes soft muted by pigment’s taboos
That captive guide to the painter’s forfeiture
Witness to his father’s eyesight’s dim demise, he
tinged all his gradients a finely disguised crimson
Hinting at his own corporeality ebbing between
the tint of dark undulations, well lit then lost
This impenetrable darkness of engulfed visions
rendered in such minute detail, sight’s empathy
Each fleshy hue pulled taut to contain a meaning
Lucid skin immersed in a porous wash of stories
All strengths have secret flaws softly concealed
Love’s invisible tug distorting senses like disease
Brightest skies in a defiantly blinding blue a
colossal revolt to Samson’s wide-eyed betrayal
By Delilah’s gaping gaze consumed by wiles, then
A self portrait of shadows pulled across heavy lids
Such accentuation in history’s obscured frailties by
A painter haunted by blind violinists and beggars
Nothing on canvas trembles like that thin fear
Drowned in the infinities of Rembrandt’s shadows
Characters loosely clothed in fabrics detailed creases
Lonely souls exposed without drawing crude realism
The tiny folds of skin grown over his Mother’s eyes
Seen with the forensic precision of delicate prophecy
Blackness growing faster silently as Samson’s hair
Too slowly to gain sought salvation without ridicule
A whispered alert to the spectator’s engaged gaze
Awake to the act of looking where light ends
A clarity recorded in endless perceptions framings
Of a man’s fear governed by his father’s losses