silent eyes

Silent eyes

I was standing at the front of my mat with my feet rooted to the earth, much like a woman with silent eyes waiting for hours at a bus stop.

Prudently listening and smiling, like her cares had been washed away with dunes on midnight’s wave and she didn’t have anywhere to be. Though she receives no visual input, her ear are busy and constantly overwhelmed.

She could hear the school children chattering, snacking, doing what school kids do. The cars swoon past her, like they were racing against the impending mortality of their desires.

Today she met me, and I met her. neither of us could see each other, and it was perfect that way. Her whites of her eyes had turned to the heavens as if she was permanently searching for a starlight. Mine were shut, temporarily.

I sensed her graceful smile and her kind colours that illuminated from her fragile soul.

Her silent eyes saw everything and reflected nothing. Her ears followed the every sparrow’s song, every lingering moment. Every cutthroat Innuendo. She held the implosive secrets of many-a-man that transformed into feelings that could set her ablaze.

She spoke to me like a long-time friend, her successes and anecdotes of her pain. I was moved by her words of wisdom and the passion in her voice. Sometimes she weaved her secrets between the strands of poetry.

Finally, my ears were overwhelmed too so I opened my eyes to greet her face. It was then she told me the most important thing that contained no words, and a smile that stretched from her lips to the edge of her silent eyes.

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