You won’t see my eyes
across this divide
that widens
and deepens
each day.
My gaze is turned
downward
into the rift
where much that was
has slipped away.
Into the dark
of misaimed deeds
selfish wants
always needs.
Not convenient
if I bleed.
So pardon me
if our eyes don’t meet
the steps are precarious
below these feet.
I need my focus
on footing strong
on solid ground,
and grounded ones.
I know what lurks
behind those eyes
who make believe
with all those lies
that everything will be okay
and once again I’ll
look your way.
But keep your eyes
upon your path
of weblike turns
and sticky tracks.
And let me keep
my tired eyes
focused ahead
where my truth lies.
Dog-eared Stories 