Slowly slowly slowly the blur sharpens
in increments of sleep.
Stress shedding like the second snake skin appearing in the
potting shed that day
using the rafters to scratch surface smooth.
Like the one time I went nearly blind
Only now the opposite.
Chronic idiopathic uveitis they called it.
Wizard eye I did on good days.
Slowly slowly slowly the world faded, almost imperceptible
like the wax messages and lemon juice burnt edges of pirate
maps we made as children
until I couldn’t quite find my way, thread the needle, cut
the carrots, park the car.
This is just that. In reverse.
Our brain matter changes as our bellies grow and more after
the baby is born.
The word escapes.
The math doesn’t add.
The cataracts came quickly. A side effect of steroids.
One day I left the hose on. At least it wasn’t the stove.
One day I forgot to strap him in. We made it safe.
A laser cut them clear and when I pulled back the bandage
the world felt brighter than before
So much it hurt.
I wanted to walk outside before I should;
(I never really liked being told what to do.)
(I find it hard to follow directions anyway.)
So I left the house.
There was a tree, an oak, I knew now, then,
with so many many leaves, each unique
that I could see. I imagine maybe it will be like that,
like that existential philosopher (Kierkegaard) said:
the knight of resignation lets it all go
and with faith gets it all back.
