Haunting Eyes…
Posted by admin - 05/03/10 at 09:03 pm
The boy’s eyes follow me around the room.
His thinly painted lips purse nary a hint of a smile, only a telling, a knowing far beyond his tender years—or maybe he does know, maybe he knows everything, staring out from the portrait with generations of patterns and sufferings pouring through him.
The mother next to him beams with soft love, a genuine, warm radiance that sends a message of forever, her head tilted into his, nestling her precious treasure.
She makes it so easy to look at
her, the glow that never stops, the frozen moment that cries out with gratitude for the child, passion for the man and the fulfillment of her, the woman, the creator, the giver of life.
Her eyes, too, boast great depth, dark, brooding, a vacuum that pulls me in and keeps pulling, alluring, intoxicating, like a dangerous ambrosia that breeds unquenchable thirst and leaves me thirsty no matter how much I drink.
Still, in her, I don’t see the haunting.
Has it been transferred?
Have the frightful nightmares that originated in yesteryear moved from parent to child, an endless perpetuation of the tired tale, one more frayed mooring that set another ship adrift without a sail, a tiller, or a captain?
What does he think or does he only feel?
He wears the eyes of his grandmother, and his grandfather and their mothers and fathers before them.
The same crash, burn and compromise story, the cycled heartbreaks, the settling and search for some measure of solace in predestined lives that let the youth drivel out like blood through the small teeth of a leach, one drop at a time, almost unknowing, until it disappears.
Would he mirror their fates?
The unblemished baby skin mocks the notion of reliving the old.
Not a single wrinkle signals the
pain or pleasure of experience.
The possibilities for a thousand different outcomes seem so real.
Maybe she can make magic.
Maybe she has broken the cycle and the boy’s gaze hangs on the wall as a reminder.
Maybe she has cracked the code, dug a deep groove into her karma, reached in with a lantern and lit the way.
Maybe he doesn’t need a light but rather a hand along his journey, a support, the encouragement of a trusted figure to keep him empowered when he stumbles and picks him up when he falls.
Maybe he will surprise us all and forge a new path, a revolutionary track that leaves the perpetual misgivings of his ancestors behind.
Maybe he will reject the same mistakes, boldly stride forward without attachments.
Maybe.
I wonder if she knew how much she herself spoke when she painted those haunted eyes.
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March 5th, 2010 at 2:10 pm
Wow, Ridgely!
This is incredible writing! The images you use leap from the page. When I read your words “haunted eyes” I think of the Joad family in The Grapes of Wrath. My father’s side of the family have dark brown eyes. We had one uncle whose eyes looked black when he became angry. I recall someone relating a scary story about his eyes. They looked over at me and said, “You have your Uncle’s dark eyes…but yours are kind.” It was perhaps the kindest thing they could say under the circumstances. The eyes are the window of the soul, and to shine, we have to clear the soul–to see with clear vision those steps we must take to get beyond hurt and pain in our early lives. Otherwise we become ensnared in repeated bad circumstances, and the “haunted eye” identifies us like the Telltale Heart of Poe. May our stories become kinder and our eyes reveal that kindness more each day.
Big blessings!
Freda
March 5th, 2010 at 2:48 pm
Interesting story Ridge !
Yeah, I think he will surprise us all !
But something that surprises me now, is that no one but Freda has commented before on your writings? Strange. But I am in a hurry Ridge. I must leave now. I had not time, really, to read your story and comment here, but I very much wanted to write a few words because you are my friend. “Just a little bit more”, you know ; ¤ ) =
March 8th, 2010 at 9:02 am
Compelling writing. Makes me what to read more. I have to look you p on Amazon and check out your books. Haunted Eyes a metaphor for searching for what haunts our own lives and work it out . If that is not your purpose, this story certainly gets my attention.