Blue
Even now, as you sit at my slippered feet
Your youthful eyes so full of hope, so
Unhardened by the terrors of the world,
Yours remind me of mine, once, before the cold
Sent cracks of red like a shattered mirror,
Lightning bolts, even, across my sight.
I remember you asking me once,
“What color are your eyes, Grandpa?”
And me chuckling, ruffling the blond hair
Your mother had given you.
I told you blue, because blue is the color
Of the sky, of hope, of dreams untouched
By clouds and thunder and sadness.
But my eyes have held every color-
They are a jail cell whose key will
Forever be lost in time.
They hold the unwavering gaze of my mother,
Singing to me a forgotten lullaby as my father
Bangs in a drunken rage on the door, the
Fabric of her red dress pressed close to my cheek.
They have captured my first kiss with the
Raven-haired girl who then flew away herself
Into a world I dared not follow.
They have enclosed the soldier, begging,
Reaching out to me, my best friend!
Yet I, struck with terror, ran until the brown earth
At my feet was alive with a blur of
Emotions running rampant at night.
But perhaps the worst thing they have
Held was the day when I woke up in a panic,
My shaking hands clutching the white sheets,
Sighing in relief that it was over-
Except it had only just begun.
Yet, as I look at you, with your unseeing
Ones, a murky blue, and think of the day
You were born- when the cracks in my
Eyes seem to have faded a little bit, my
Wrinkles smoothed away by an unknown
Force, and when I held you in my arms I
Felt a rush of happiness, shed a solitary
Tear which splashed on the ground,
And, just for a moment, my eyes flickered
With the faintest tinge of blue.