Archive
02/11/09 - (2)
Undoing
For the past three days (It's been weeks, months, really; Indeed, I've twice postponed my appointment), I've quaked; my hands have gone cold; I've evacuated my insides too often to count; My metabolism has slowed to that of a slug. I'm just a hovering ghost,
All because I've finally agreed To have cataract surgery, tomorrow morning, On my left eye, And on my right one, next month. To say I've been anxious, agitated, stressed Is to downplay the severity of my terror, Understate the magnitude of my undoing.
But at sixty-seven, in excellent health, Athletically fit as a man thirty years my junior, I'm a perfect candidate for this procedure, Which should calm night's fracturing lights, Clarify my blurred focus, correct my astigmatism. I keep telling myself this, and yet, what if... What if the gift of sight turns to shadow?
What then? How will I capture the glow At the far end of life's darkened labyrinth, Exit its moonlight-starved forest, Feel my way through unillumined brain caves? Knowing neglect will definitely lead to blindness, I make peace with my demons, Entrust seeing to vision beyond my reach.
02/11/09 - (2)
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