My Creator decided one fine sunny day
that my eyes would need to focus—
who am I to argue? Though I’ve noticed
there’s side vision, too, and my mom
claimed to have eyes in the back of her head,
but I think she prevaricated. (Moms’ privilege.)
Still, the Paradise we live in enchants us both
with its vivid reds, greens, blues and golds, while
dust invisibly creeps through those same arched windows
and French doors, layering itself over every shelf,
knick-knack, book, photo and mirror.
Vincent says that’s the price for living in Eden,
but I think, no, that’s the price of entropy—
which is summed up in one pithy Biblical phrase,
“dust thou art and to dust returneth.”
But the more invisible dust there is,
the more I don’t see it.
I dampened a cloth to wipe the top shelves,
knowing that dust is gravity’s pet, but then
there were pools of dust on the floor,
which I wiped up (the ones I could see)—
then the cloth was linty and had to be rinsed,
after that the sink was full of dusty dirt.
Speaking of things I can’t see, I hope
that the pipes don’t clog with lint and dust!
Leaks from the shower in the bathroom
went unseen for years, and now that that’s fixed,
are there other pipes leaking, snickering silently
up their sleeves or cursing the fitters
who laid them so badly?
Until recently, I didn’t see that my scalp
is pinkly and brazenly baring itself to the world,
didn’t see how my fears and worries were affecting others,
nor did I see spent flowers from my beloved hibiscus
falling to the terrace below and ticking off my neighbor.
Plainly, focus is a tool I’m responsible for using
as designed, and, since the whole world is shouting at me
to pay attention, it’s useful all the time, like fingernails—
or toes—those handy sensors alerting me to what’s immediate.
Movement is what attracts our attention first, as I’m
distracted this moment by a feeding hummingbird,
but there are more important things—like the fond thoughts
of our neighbors toward us, or the hostile ones.
They land unfelt on our energy fields,
yet nurturing or repelling us all the same.
Thoughts that arise within us are not obviously connected to
states of peace or worry, joy or grief, pleasure or irritation,
though enough of the same ones repeated will result in such states.
Something like a speed governor would be handy, I think,
to keep my attention focused on what is most important.
Spirit says, “Focus on my love for you and for all, I’ll take
care of the rest.”
As I’m a fond disciple of the K.I.S.S. method, with a
grateful flood of relief, I embrace the Presence within me.
Wow quite the poem. Yes movement attracts us and then we look at the beauty around us. Focus on the positives is what I say. Too much neg in this world that we dwell on it. Look for the beauty In the movement. Great writing here!