Admonition to Eyes

LOVE
It is Sunday, and another poem has come. This one is written like a letter to my eyes, begging them to open, to see God's grandeur in nature, the struggle of a close friend, the newly born-handwriting of my elementary aged boys, the smile of my daughter . . .

The poem is my way of continuing the thoughts of one of my friends at the end of his sermon, ". . . let us ask that we be granted the eyes to see those things that are needful for us in our spiritual pilgrimage. Perhaps that idea can introduce the fear that we could go way overboard on seeing the unseen . . . and yet, at special times . . . of danger, of discouragement, God may open our eyes to see things that are not unreal, but simply not regularly visible. Simply knowing that that reality is there may serve to build our faith."


Admonition to Eyes

Open to see the sun whitening,
illuminating tufted tips
of tall grass that
wave in autumn wind

the downward slope of
eyebrows mid-sentence,
fall of countenance,
crinkle of brow begging
help with kids while
a loved one convalesces
close to Heaven

See sea glass vibrant and pastel,
Study microscopic and particulate
the vast and collective
blurry humming birds, stars, silvery
moons, smears of constellation,
rosebuds or full labyrinths of bloom

Notice each lighted moment
the wobble of new cursive, her
exact slant of smile, leaves of
particular crimson or ochre,
infinitely unique geometries of
snowflakes, each metaphor in life

Practice opening widely, precisely with
cunningly careful voraciousness
Look for the Image of the Invisible, the
Mystery of divinity, the fuzzy feathery
promise found in the fluttering tips
of seeable, unseen angel wings

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. Colossians 1:15-17