Hazel Eyes Series
by Banaue Miclat

“More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.”
–Edna St. Vincent Millay

I have a question:
Why did you ask when I was not ready?

I have a pain:
Why speak of her? It really hurt me.

I have been healing:
Tomorrow I’ll be ready.

I have a question:
When will you ask again?


i.

just your eyes for now,
i’m obsessed with your hazel eyes.
those eyes, nothing more…


ii.

I walk around not knowing the days.
I come to class and it’s the wrong class.
I walk the frozen beach near my street.
All the while I search for your hazel eyes.

More precious IS the light in your eyes
    than all the sun-filled stained glass display of the Cloisters.
More precious is the grace of your movements with that camera
    than the statue of Virgin and Child.
More precious is your whispering voice,
    filling my ears, my heart, my soul. My Medieval Art.

How precious must this pain remain
    until I see those hazel eyes again?








iii.

Sleep some more,
Those hazel eyes must never water.

Hide some more,
Another second of staring at those hazel eyes
And I would have kissed you.

Search some more,
I want your eyes only when they’re ready for me alone.


iv.

Moving through shadows of stained-glass images,
I hide from your lens
To feel your essence.

Moving through whispers of unwritten stories,
I laugh at your words
To un-feel past hurts.

Moving through pictures of thirty second exposures,
I look into those eyes,
Your hazel-colored eyes.


v.

I see your face in every man that I meet,
Those lips in the subway—
    A red beanie you never wear.
Hazel eyes of a dance partner—
    Movement you’ve never graced.
Kung-fu warriors in movies—
    Admiration for craft you understand.
I see your face in every man that I meet,
I’s discovered in this snow-covered silence.
I am discovered in this snow-covered silence.







vi.

It’s so cold, my pen ink froze,
I am writing this in my heart:

I am walking in stillness—
the wind has stopped.
I am singing within silence— all else in asleep.

I am made calm by your smile,
I am freed by your words…

“Words, words, words—
A bird missing a leg…”
More words and some smiles.
Hot cocoa and warmth.

I see no more Winter storm inside.

March 2005