CataractMarch 13, 2008
The doctor confirmed what I already knew,
that the fuzziness creeping in around the edges of my vision
wasn’t some imagined darkened curtain
but more a milking of the lens.
Adding haze to my specificity,
the green twinge of memory sending back
imagined reflections of different choices
a doubling of vision.
Two doors stand before me,
two paths, two roads, are they behind me or ahead?
I made these choices long ago
or did they make me?
Passageways I long abandoned
images of shadows of an imagined future
nestling with the dying embers of youthful spirit
long since burned through.
The light reflected and refracted
into a white-hot laser. I recoil
from the heat and searing images
of swirling doubt in hopes of seeing clearly.