In process

The eyes and the brain are connected, or more precisely my eyes and brain are connected.  Others are dubious about my eye/brain issue.  I have strabismus.  since I was a baby.  you can see it in pictures, one eye way off to the side.  When it's noticed in babies, it's often fixed with an early operation. My parents and my doctors didn't pay much attention to my strabysmus, in fact I have no evidence that it was ever spoken about at all when I was a baby.  Or when I was a kid.  Until kids teased me about it, and I started to ask about it.  The eye Dr.  checked me over and confirmed that I had stabismus, which - by the way - means that one of my eyes went off to the side, that like car tires that are unalligned and move in sync with each otherin their out of sync set up, so too my eyes are crooked and move along with one another in a crooked way.  Often as a kid I'd talk to one person and the person next to them wondered why I was looking at them instead of the person I was talking too.  Anyway, I had to push my parents to push this with my eye Dr.  I pushed and he pushed back and said that if it was his kid he wouldn't have gotten the operation for them.  This sounded odd to me because my friend Howard from down the block had a similar eye situation that was fixed by said operation, and even by the same Dr. that my doctor said would be the one to do it, if I were to get the surgery.

September 11, 2017

I am isolated. I am blessed with family and friends.

My apartment does not get direct sunlight. I have an apartment.

I am hungry at this moment. I have access to more food than I need.

My job exhausts me. I am blessed in my work to interact, to connect, to teach.

I write on Facebook. I write on Facebook.

I feel bad with you

worse without you

you push me through

by pulling me back

my air is tainted and

you adjust my breath

but I resent you

and I avoid you

I leave you for days

till I know I need you

I the broken one

break you in half

you keep me sane

and drive me mad

I sigh, and say

"You're such a pill."

FAITH

I want to write about faith,
about the way the moon rises
over cold snow, night after night,

faithful even as it fades from fullness,
slowly becoming that last curving and impossible
sliver of light before the final darkness.

But I have no faith myself
I refuse it even the smallest entry.

Let this then, my small poem,
like a new moon, slender and barely open,
be the first prayer that opens me to faith.

David Whyte