Let me assure you that I am aware
That eyes are eyes
Wherther blue, gray, brown, green
for they see what the nose, mouth, ears
Could never begin to fathom.
And yes, I know that many of the colors
Have been given the audacity to
Make hearts flutter to a halt
While others are reduced to acquiring
Their colors from the dullest of souls.
Everyyone can see the pigments
That have surely created the
Being before them.
Yet most are blind to see,
To notice, to care, to love
What lies beneath those
Purely captivating eyes.
Blues scatter throughout
The world we know
From the sky to the ocean
To sad old men
To new baby blankets
To old denim jeans
To new paint and pens.
They run down streets
With a glimmer of emotion
To be seen by more than
Just the blues alone.
They jump and play and skip
From the soles of their feet
To the top most fragment of
Hair on their heads.
Girl envy and swoon over the
Brightness and innocence
Of those blue eyes we see everyday.
Gray for the hardest of men
And the saddest of women,
Almost stone under their lashes
Strength radiating into the eyes
Of others as they stare back in fear.
Indentations from the old beatings,
Heartbreaks, tramas, and even love.
Hard lines of black cross through
The rough outer gray surface
To produce a wall built up
From the iris, pulled and wrapped
Around the heart and mind.
And even if you put your entire
Being into tearing, ripping, crumbling
Their wall, you'll be thrown back
Wishing you had never attempted.
Brown to melt as a new born
Wraps its hand around
A mother's finger
And to glisten when a
Student grasps their torso
Because they were saved by their teacher.
A brown that never hurts
Enough to harden, but loves enough
To smile and be strong.
A brown that is patient and
Knowing, understanding, caring.
Not because they don't know hurt
But for the idea that they've been
Hurt so as to never hurt others.
They will see things that others miss
And get to know secrets that others
Cannot comprehend of imagine.
But every secret will blow at their
Melted eyes, but they will never
Turn to stone.
To look in a mirror and see the
Trees whistling by as you look out
A car window, full of hopes and dreams.
With sky blue walls and small pictures
About older and younger sisters.
A white bed and crooked teeth
To match it in color.
No make-up,hair parted in the middle
And eyes to match her mother's.
A smile on her lips and in her milky eyes.
Then her walls turned blood red
And her teeth became straight while
Her long sleeves were clutched in her fists
And her eyes no longer brightened
At people, only at things she did.
The rest of the time, her eyes held black lines
And only melted from seeing the beauty
Of life in something other than herself.
So let me ask you,
Are eyes just eyes?
Whether blue, gray, brown, green?
Do they just see what the
Nose, mouth, ears could never fathom?
And are you sure that you are not
Blind to see, to notice, to care, to love
What lies beneath those
Purely captivating eyes?