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FISH EYES OF THE SOUL
FISH EYES OF THE SOUL
Staring at fish eyes through the window, I wonder
If they were like me dropping into the doctor’s hand
With haunting eyes when I was birthed by my mother.
In life and death we are the cynosure of all eyes; the
Executioner peeks through his cloak as the ax falls and
Victim’s families get front row seats at killer’s executions.
At midnight we visit with Sol Niger, the black sun where
No rays of light reach us into the recesses of our buried
Conscience, but stars are there still peeking at us.
Great trawlers pull in shining bodies our of the sea; for this
We will never have a full day of peace; a mule will die for
Being over yoked and a house or a barn will burn down.
The hunter cries out loud after eyeing and shooting his kill;
The same shout that rose in Cain’s breast when he killed Abel;
Like owls, we have a keen eye for killing but lack their wisdom.
We are like King Solomon on his knees lamenting; so much
Lamentation is necessary to prop up a king; his subjects witnessing
His lamentations go and kill likewise and do the same lamenting.
The eye of the Tiger seems to have more perspicuity than a dozen
Lambs; the cobra’s stare is mesmerizing. If eyes are the windows
To the soul then someone must be looking at us as we look at fish.
