Q: What is the eye to you?
L: Haven’t thought about that yet.
Q: What about the “I” then?
L: As opposed to “me”?
Q: Yes.
L:
Q: You can’t smoke in here.
L: It’s cherry flavoured. I haven’t tried them yet.
Q: That doesn’t change anything.
L: Fair enough.
Q:
L: What was the question?
Q: Your thoughts on “I” and “me”.
L: Ah. So, “Me” is me standing before a mirror and pointing at the reflection.
Q: and “I”?
L: “I” is a prayer.
Q: Can you be more specific?
L: “I” is a prayer one utters when battle has made you weary and you’re not quite sure how it is you’re still standing. The vision in one of your eyes is blurred and red. You can’t tell if the blood on your face is yours, but it is. All of it is. You’ve just realized that. The thought hurts more than the wounds- “Have I always been the one being wounded? Has this battle been a war against me all along? I’m the victim?”
Q: What kind of war is that?
L: One against you.
Q: I see.
L: I’m not finished.
Q: Continue, then.
L: You ask yourself these questions and realize that not only are you still standing, you are, and there’s power in that. So you square your shoulders and breathe slow to look hell in the face. You’ve still got one good eye after all. The ground is suddenly stiller than you remember. The fog lifts. There are no bodies. The remnants of war and chaos surround you; you walk forward. You don’t know where you’re going but the thought isn’t a doubt. You’re full of certainty and gun smoke and nothing stains or stings your lungs as you breathe in- and then out. Then suddenly- there they stand, the match that started the fire, the one that ended in certain death and now rebirth. You stop. You breathe- in, out. You pray.
Q: “I”?
L: Aye.
Q: Who are you praying to?
L: God is present in many things.
Q: The self?
L: “I”.
Q: I see.
L: The more I value myself, the more God there is in me.
Q: Who is the enemy in this war?
L: Depends.
Q: On what?
L: How much you’ve healed.
Q: Can you elaborate?
L: The enemy could be a ghost, your uncle, your first grade math teacher, a rabid dog. People, though- they rip things from you. They cough in your direction. They tell you to prioritize their wants over your needs. The enemy could also be your reflection. It depends on how much you’ve healed.
Q: Are you at war with yourself?
L: Absolutely.
Q: Who started this war?
L: Many.
Q: Why hasn’t it stopped?
L: I was taught to continue the war, not to end it.
Q: You mean like abuse?
L: Not like abuse. Abuse.
Q: So being abused led you to be at war with yourself.
L: Correct.
Q: I’d like to go back to your first answer.
L: You want me to conclude it.
Q: Yes.
L: “Me” is an image. “I” is your essence. Your essence can be weaponized through prayer.
Q: That’s quite the statement.
L: When the enemy has you pinned by the wrists, thretening to stab your throat with your own brush, when your worth becomes tied to how many times in the day they decide to use you, when they take everything you are and tell you to **** yourself with it once they’re gone, when they have their foot on your back and a fist full of your hair, cackling like demons in a church they were never meant to enter- that is when you pray.
Q: “I”?
L: The reflection’s reflection speaks. This is what God is. This is your prayer. Everything you are packed tightly into a single vowel, in one deep breath. The reversal of a tragedy preformed perfectly, the cracking of a reality that once was, but with a single word, is no more. The vocalization of your very essence-
Q:

L: “ I “.



From: *Stories From A Sane Poet: A Look Into The Mad Minds of Troubled Youth (1986) - Chapter 7: What Is The Eye?