Hidden, mostly, those eyes;
but sometimes they lift,
hang on the stillness,
hang on the pain
drifting out in invisible rings
from the widening depths of fear;
mostly they slide away then,
slip down the chalk-dry edge of
fall,
and settle
beyond the thin dead rims of
yesterday;
sometimes they flicker, shift,
flutter frantic
at the cobwebbed windows of the
mind,
blind
in the panic light.
And sometimes I hold those eyes to
mine,
and the battered wings grow still
as I smile, reaching;
pour invisible sun to calm,
caress,
to warm with love;
the clinging eyes withdraw,
a gentle answering smile
soft-lifting their fragile flight
away
towards tomorrow,
remembered now that honeyed store,
elusive memory...
I sit unseen, mostly, watchful,
ready to switch on the sun.
Invigilating.
(Rural
Science exam, May, 1986)
