יום שישי, 25 במרץ 2011

Bruised eyes

I'm looking at the world through bruised eyes.

The images I have seen have imprinted themselves on my retina, are engraved in my iris, are outlined in my pupils, have impressed themselves into my cornea. 



I'm looking at the world through images of his death, his funeral, his coffin lowered into the ground, and these images have bruised me.

A veil of sadness covers my eyes and I'm looking at the world through it, as through a filter, and it affects my eyesight. 



My eyes have become the most vulnerable part of me, as my eyes were the gate through which these images have entered my realm and changed me, and my eyes now reflect my pain, my trauma, my vulnerability.

As I reread what I have just written, I realize it was not so: My ears were the first gate, not my eyes, as the news of his death was first delivered to me over the phone - by hearing, not by seeing. And yet it is my eyes who have been bruised, not my ears. Perhaps because a part of me fled when I heard the news, for I did not wish to be there and register what I was being told.

I notice strangers staring at me 
with a puzzled expression on their faces and I wonder - Do they interpret my expression as haunted? Do they notice the layer of sadness through which I'm looking at them? Do they see these images in my eyes when they look at me, or is it only me who see these images when I look at them? 



Can you see the bruises?

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