Used To The Blur

…she said with amazing eyes only an optometrist could pull off.

The other day I was getting my eyes in a strict effort to tackle any of those life impurities that seem to sneak in and out without being noticed. The optometrist said to me that, “You have a little astigmatism but nothing to worry about”. In fact, she continued, “Have you ever worn glasses?”

“Yeah, I did at one point in time but I gave them up cold turkey because I felt my eyes were getting worse”, I murmured.

She smiled and told me to sit back while she removed the Borg-style contraption off my face.

“You didn’t quit cold turkey, you just got used to the blur”, she said poetically.

For a moment, I was speechless, and for those who know me well enough, this is quite the impossibility.  In an instant, I felt like 1) my victory over my failing sense to see well was in fact an illusion, and 2) what do you mean I’m getting used to the blur??

Then it hit me, what other blurry segments of my life am I getting used to? What else have I “delusioned” myself into thinking is one way but in fact is another? How much of this blur is simply acceptable? How do I gauge in either direction?

So, I left the optometrist with an unique understanding and a few more questions in not only in my physical ability to see the things in front of me, but also the realization that perhaps I’m emotionally seeing certain parts of my life in a blurred state. Perhaps I need to divest some more time in understanding what I’m truly seeing in myself and in the ones who love and care for me.

20/20 is such a relative term anyway.

M.C. Davis

If You Were Here

If you
were
here,
I would
smile
like
no one
cares,
and jump
from
this
wall
to that
cliff
and back,
like
a cat
does
after the
moon
has
set
strongly
in
its
place
for the
night.

If you
were
here,
I would
carry both
of
our thoughts
to
that place,
and
give you
a simpler
more
calm
approach
to loving
me.

If you
were
here,
I wouldn’t
have
to
stare into
empty
space,
since
the
nudge
from
your hands
would
keep
me
just
satisfied.

M.C. Davis

A Little Cat Butter In Your Eye

…was often heard around my house by my grandmother upon waking up.

She spoke in smooth riddles, and expected many of us visitors to decipher and encode her meanings, word connections, and  concocted at any given notice. She even walked with a twist and a thump that made you want to follow her around every bend, dancing in between her shadows and asking permission to see more.

She was a dancer in a former life, and a laymaker in this present one. She doubts all but carefully gives new meaning to the words I am when the mood find her.

It’s the nature of who she is that carries the world in its orbital place. It’s also a guessing game she plays with life that makes us question her place.

“You got a little cat butter in your eye boy…”, she would say as I pulled at the past night’s tug to lure me back to sleep.

She always knew the ins and outs of what could bother you, and when you stepped too far off the ledge, she whispered you back with a true quickness.

It was in these moments that I found clarity in knowing my time on this Earth will be worthwhile, feeling, and in tune with the pace of every other person around me.

M.C. Davis

Up

I’m
going
up,
and
through
the windows,
caressing
each crack
and
lining
up the
next frame.

You
are
going up
with
me and
down the
small
white
crevices,
in
between dust
and
the
years of
memories passing
through
glass touching
life.

At
last, we
are
upward-bound
and
our
days are
finally
figured out,
and
the upness
we feel
is
our natural
high
lifting us
like
two
clouds being
born.

M.C. Davis

Playing It By Ear

So, we’re at it again.

Playing it by ear and letting the cards fall where they may; or at the very least, letting the weather pattern choose our mood for the day, for sake of any part of that moody day ruining our year.

When I was younger, I used to dream all the time. I would play over and over in my mind the irrelevancies of how I saw the world. In my world, race would not characterize the forced image of how we see each other. Friendships would start from the very basic need to be friends, vice the fact that you and I are simply sharing the same space, at the same time, and with no exit for either one of us.

See, in my world, playing it by ear isn’t just a notion of whatever whatever, but rather a need to have element be themselves without the pigments we humans often insert without permission.

Loose. Free. Naked. Unfiltered.

It is in this method that I have learned to know you, and eventually the ability to completely love you.

M.C. Davis

Glance

 

If a
dance
makes
up the
sum
of us,
let’s
us tango
the
night
away
with a Capital
“T” and
make
the most
of the
light’s
prance.

If the
morning
dew’s
warmth likens
itself
to the
warmth
between our
sheets,
let us
lounge
like
two cats
in a stretching
match
during the
earliest
part of the
day.

What I
mean to
say is
that
if I’m
correct,
you
stand
just as tall
as
I do, so
when the
moon
curves itself
around
your
heart,
I’ll
keep faith
in
knowing
a glance
is
all it
will take
for
me to
be
there next
to
you.

M.C. Davis