Eye Contact
Look me in the eye
when you tear me down,
see the pain you create,
don't flinch from the anger,
don't mute out my screaming,
feel your mirror neurons pulse
as they try to recreate exactly
what you've made me into.
Don't force eye contact
when you insult and degrade
another human being,
holding power over them,
making them into little more
than a plaything for your amusement,
while they try to survive.
Do you see the contradiction?
Do you see what was wrong
in your past, when you were shown
that being different made you special,
that being normal made you right?
Do you see how power differentials
turn some of us into cowards
and others into brute sinners,
and many into packed dust?
Do you see why I cannot make you see
what social evolution has made us,
how we have shaped ourselves
through history and myths and sociology?
Show me what I am to become,
show me who I am supposed to be,
and push me further into my closet,
force me to extinguish your genius
for being before and after its time.
You can't make me like my past,
let me reject who I was for someone else.
And you can't predict my future.
Look me in the eye,
for I know you have bad news.
I'm sorry about my parents,
I must leave to see what's left
of a disappearing personal history,
allowed to fade in the bright present light.
Don't look me in the eye when
I hug you and sob for my loss.
It's not about comfort now;
it's about presence, and feeling,
and safety, and youth.
It's about social love.
The bond of eye contact.