the eyes that sometimes hurt
they are my eyes. the only eyes i can vouch for. not yours, as much as i might like. your eyes with delightful colour. i can see your eyes but i can only see mine if i look in a mirror and that always feels so uncanny, who is that person, guess it’s me. the motor-mirror stage, i think that’s what it is called, when we realise who we are when just a little kid. an entity and an individual, a liminal substance with little traction. mirror looking is weird and tough but also really helpful for correcting things on your face that you might not be happy with. and that could include the eyes although they aren’t easy to work on. not at all. enigmatic.
and if you do the same thing over and over it brings out the fatigue. not always a bad thing but there is a strain. fighting against that pushes it deeper, not away. and you make peace or you go to sleep. words and words i’ve read but not sure if they made any deeper impact. will have to return in a while to measure the results. it’s like an office building that has sent a fax, that’s not an instant process, patience is key. the eyes have to be focused for so long each day, taking in what’s in front but also at the corners. the other day a magpie came out of nowhere and put a foot into my face, narrowly missing my left eye. happened so quick, would have never been able to spot that bird’s stealth. washed my hands and face fifteen minutes later.