The blood-orange sun splits open on night’s terrible edge,
Sending with the promise to wash me awhile away from darkness
A tsunami of light gushing into my gloomy little place on this earth.
I have accomplished much, readying for this windy winter-heralding day.
I will dare to leave the protection of my warm, caressing bed,
Having at long last braved a bath, combed my hair, and shaved.
I am dressed well, bad teeth brushed, all polished and pressed,
As an image of me in the mirror averting his familiar gaze,
And my happy, ever-approving dog may this morning attest.
This is the day I will make my way to the village, the day I will be brave!
I will be a man! I will pedal along the deserted bicycle path to the market.
Over the pastel mosaic of leaves fallen, I will pedal singing, unafraid,
Passing by the cemetery full of forgotten graves wildflowers remember,
To buy the finest treats available for my loyal tail-wagging friend.
Even if I become dizzy, my heartbeat now faint murmuring, then racing,
And everything I see, I begin to see doubled, or blurred, or in gray;
Even if breathing becomes the hardest labor I will ever have done,
I will be by nothing deterred. I am leaving my room to buy dog treats today!
The predictable man in the mirror looks furtively about my dimension,
Fearing bloody eye contact will shatter the fragile portal we share,
Through which pass no real festering sores of a body and soul in isolation,
But only empathic view of purpose we have in the moment agreed my life serves.
The round and rippling glass molds mutable truth in my reflections,
Indulging denial of the atrocity begun when my blameless mother gave birth.
Cataracts have made barely distinguishable my once extraordinary vision,
From that of myopic everyman seeing only with eyes everything as it is on Earth;
So while I cannot now see beyond my nose, infinite in scope remain my illusions.