Singing Light

(After cataract surgery, with thanks to Dra. Claudia Camacho Choza)

Dare I call them mine?
The artificial lens of each
makes leaves on the Huanacaxtle tree
tremble individual
against the breathing dome of blue.
Earth emerges for me, new.
Later in darkness, the stars!
Orion as crisp and sharp
as when my child self
flung back her head and marveled,
mouth agape and eyes agog.

My cells take up the lenses
with soothing hum;
pulling in what was
not mine, conducting
orchestral adaptation
in my body cosmos.
Along the shores of island discs,
indigenous tissue laps,
all the parts in harmony.

In my brain, the body-god
madly fashions a magic forest
of fresh and sudden circuits.
What is seeing, now?
Exacting acrobatics in the teeming
weave of networks sprung alive.
Hot-wired to the queen
inside the court beneath my crown,
I find myself a troubadour.

I open up my pristine windows.
My eyes are kissed
with vision riched, distinct.
The queen called sight
brushes my eyes with light,
with loved
and singing
light.                            ©Susa Silvermarie 2019

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