Behind His Eyes

One of my own, one of my favorites in honor of National Poetry Month.

(For Connor)

Behind his eyes,
blue as the sky on a summer day
turmoil churns like
a wall cloud before the
tornado drops.
To decipher the emotional landscape
is to probe the depths of uncharted territory.

I’m no cartographer.

I tread gently, blindly.
I fumble as I try to read the Braille of his psyche;
but, I can’t see past the shadows.
His highs and lows rise and dip
like an unstable weather pattern
where sunshine belies the coming storm.
A bright smile and clear eyes can spin off
into ominous gales.

I reach for the shards of light. Perhaps
a clue, perhaps…

Too quickly the shadows appear, again.
Just when I think I can forecast the triggers,
pinpoint the offending cloud, the light shifts
and I’m caught blinking helplessly in the clarity
of my ignorance.

~~~ Pam Patterson © 2006