“Can I look at your eyes?”
She asks, leaning forward to peer
In at the dilating pupil, the rippled iris
And saying, “Your eyes are so beautiful”
Examining like they’re powdered moth’s wings
While hers are corrugated blue-gray-green
Flecked here and there by shards of golden brown
And behind them she is
The humming of a thousand humming bird’s wings
And dusted pollen on bumble bee fur
A lighted wonder
And all the love
One good hug
Going through these old poems has been so interesting. In a couple instances I no longer really remembered who was being described in the poem, while in others I remember vividly. Many are about people I only crossed paths with a handful of times or who I never really knew, but only saw once or twice and even then from a distance. Some of these are about friends — some friends who are quite close, others who are more acquaintances than friends, others who are more like sisters than friends, and of course there are a few family members among the ranks of these poems.
Occasionally, there have been poems about women with whom I have since had falling-outs with. This is one such poem: the falling out was dramatic, drastic, and damaging on both sides, so it was strange and interesting to type up this poem written at the beginning of what was, all told, a very good friendship until those last few months.
And honestly, it was enlightening to revisit. While I wouldn’t say that I don’t bear any grudge at all, typing up this poem made me realize that I’m not really mad anymore. Every now and then I’ll still get a pang of sadness, but even this has largely passed, and even in the earlier phases of letting go of the friendship the sadness wasn’t overwhelming. Mostly, it is good to realize that I no longer harbor any ill will, for all things do come to pass.