(the focal length of life)
25mm memory - Through the waning haze of anesthesia comes the sheet over my face. The distorted shadow of Mother as she pounds my chest, pleading for life to return, ever faithful.
35mm memory – The tilt of the frame, high above the green grass. My dog Rusty, peering up at me, all shiny, warm, sad eyed, faithful.
50mm - The here and now. Normal they say. Yeah, this is supposed to be the lens that doesn't lie.
The image of father’s hand shaking mine
The tears dropping onto the clinging of his grasp
The smell of motor oil ever present on his person
The sweet, sweet farewell, faithful, even in death.
Like a nightmare, Mother lies fetal between the bed's rails.
With the touch of angels, her fingers draw my cheek to hers.
The cowardice of guilt shrinks my falling tears into desperate mist upon her face.
She closes her eyes one last time, ever faithful.
Finally, success. Just like the onion skin promised. The professors were right. But, no... too much here and now. Too much perfect. Something’s wrong. Addiction? To what?
500mm - Eyes strain through ever faithful Visene. Holy shit. Look up there... ahead. Way up there. That’s Me?
Crank the focus. Yeah. That’s… No! That’s not me... is it?
Final years pass.
Be wary of your 50mm.
Normal may not be truth.
Seek out the 500mm. Look through it once in a while.
It’s there for you to see ahead. Yeah… it’s your soul. It’s love.
Someday it will become all the focal lengths... all the frames.
Why do we insist on boundaries?