The touch of vision

From my eyelids I wiped memories
as if I were repeating fingered exorcisms.

I blinded myself within to the blush of many
afternoons before and the dense green
of many canopied refuges after.

Upon both and in between, with aromas
of tea, of cedar and of wax, I used to invent
senses and floors, and to lay absences
as corporeal as names, spaces and desires.

Then, I saved myself, assuming that I was
shattered in a thousand or more pieces
of a thousand or more mirrors placed, like
so many portraits, on bedside tables polished
by the echoes that fill empty rooms.

I left myself behind, like the last look
one throws out of a curtain-less window
to go die upon a glance of a garden peacefully.

And this was how I came to appear blinking
upon a blank page; and it is from here that I
want to write myself; to you and now.

With naked fingers and eyes shut -
guided by the touch of the only vision that matters.

-- © 2007 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*®

(Vacation was good… well, wonderful, actually, albeit short – and now it’s time to return to those other varied aspects of life that make it so interesting. Work (on several “fronts”) will be calling as from today – in a few hours – and, from now on, coordinating a wide span of activities and schedules will become, once more, the inescapable “must”. I know that, in all this, I won’t be able to dedicate as much time as I would like to something I genuinely appreciate, and which is interacting with my friends and fellow authors here, in AD, but I most certainly will keep doing my best to make, of what little time I may be allowed to spend here, true quality time – of the kind that involves undivided… or the least possible scattered attention. And, because I totally concur with this quote - “Silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone. ~ G.B. Stern” – I may run out of time for any other words… but never for these: THANK YOU!)