Creature Speak

I have olive eyes,
a green I never loved.
I wanted viridian, or
better yet: sage.

I wanted light eyes,
bright eyes,
eyes that pierce and
coax against their will.
Eyes that people remember
because they electrify;
Such powerful beauty
they are hard to look at
(for long, at least).

But my green isn’t bright.
It’s dim and sometimes muddy,
like the earth had enough
of all the shining,
climbed herself up in there
and said, “Here, take care
of my baby. I leave my mark
so they will know
you are mine.”

And I know sometimes
you just have to turn
the lights down because
people can’t see
clearly there
any better than
they do in the dark.

And we want them
to open their eyes,
don’t we?

So I have sleeper eyes,
a comfortable green.
Rich enough for substance
so you don’t get bored, and
deep enough for potency for
a valuable investment.
Light enough for sweetness
so you don’t get too frightened,
and dark enough for grounding
because a little stability
goes a long way.

They are sneaky eyes,
mischievous eyes
that don’t lay it all
bare like emeralds.
You must look closer
for the color,
and be careful because:
in the place where light
meets the edge of night,
the void dances with abandon
and the light is uncertain.

I carry the sun mixed with
the spawn of The Mother’s
womb in my irises. And you
will want to prepare
for travel;
For I am made
into liminal space,
and a vessel by which
to ride the in-between.
So get ready to see more
than you planned and to get
a little dirty too.

You don’t need gloves
or sunglasses, and it’s better
for everyone if you lay down
your weapons and drop
your guard.

Just take a breath and feel
your feet beneath you. Find
that center in your gut
that ascends to your chest
and blooms there, growing
into that precious lotus
at your brows. Feel how ancient
and how innocent you are,

and come
look me in the eyes.

Copyright © 2018, Sheyorah Aossi
All rights reserved.

art: abstract with olive green # 51 Painting by Harry Moody