Just Your Eyes

Kathy Sparling
Kathy Sparling


They’re just eyes,
They’re not windows open on the wide green valley of your soul
Or shuttered up against old fears of what you might control.
They’re the other kind of irises and not the flower
Through that lens you strain to see without a higher power
And all your visions come as some surprise
When after all they’re only eyes.

They’re just your eyes,
Not the fields the sky the sea the gathering storm
They can’t hear or touch or taste all this take form.
They’re not reflecting pools luminous and true
Sometimes I might misremember their fine hue
If love is colorblind or taken in by small disguise
Can’t trust those eyes, not just your eyes.

And true, they mostly see what they want to see
But once in a while maybe that could be me.
I’m not so farsighted either,
And seeing you up close might make me a true believer

Even though they’re just your eyes…
Not beacons flashing on the brink of the abyss.
Careful if you blink them — think what you might miss.
If you closed them now or even glanced away
Would I still be here, would my own light stay?                             
They’re not stars to follow which way my home lies
As this day dies,
They’re still just eyes.