Why is it that I see eyes everywhere and in everything?
I see eyes in the patterns on the tiles in my bathroom,
I see them in smoke from my cigarette,
I see them when milk or water spills on the table,
I see them in the markings left by dried rain,
I even see them in patches of fungus on the wall!
Desperate need is there to comprehend this phenomenon.
It troubles me to know that I know not what these eyes mean.
Are the eyes inside my head?
Does it stem from a feeling of being constantly observed?
Some of these eyes are scared,
Some reek of pure evil,
Some are familiar,
They even show a glimmer of empathy.
Some reflect a ray of hope,
Some just laugh at me, yes; they ridicule me, taunt me and reduce me to nothing!
Who are you? they ask.
What are you? They mock.
Just a confused human, like the rest of your pathetic kind.
They eyes are now looking at me with aggression.
What have I done?
The eyes are now accusing me!
Tortured and disturbed am I by these eyes.
I’m afraid they’re here to stay,
I don’t think they’ll ever go away.
Not till every child, woman and man are fed and clothed.
Not till every child, every human is safe from sodomy and rape.
Not till the trees can stand tall holding all accumulated wisdom in their rings.
Not till every bird, bee, insect and animal is stopped from being mutilated and abused.
Those eyes will glare at me,
They’ll glare me to oblivion!
Wait, an epiphany,
I think I know those eyes.
They are the eyes of the ghosts of the forgotten past.
Or are they the eyes of the future?
For a minute I think they’re the eyes of my ancestors,
On closer inspection,
I see the eyes of a child, a little infant.
So innocent, so vulnerable, yet, so powerful,
Those eyes are of that infant, all of them.
Oh my, they are the eyes of my daughter.
They’re not the eyes of the past,
They’re the eyes of the future,
Of my future.
Of our future.
And they’re glaring at me!