True Vision

by Carolin Messier

spectacles of rose

We all are born with spectacles of rose,

through which we see

the virtues of a mortal life.

First through a mother’s love,

then constant beauty to discover

with joy of learning as curiosity’s own child.

 

Through such glasses there is no pain,

no suffering, no fear,

no violence endured.

With such vision, we gain gratitude,

our existence held preciously and dear

in wonder and in love.

 

I’ve found again my childhood pair

and from my window witness as

a celestial filter casts a blushing hue.

Instead of graying skies and coming rain

they let me see Olympic Mountains sleep

between two coverlets of clouds.

 

The one below provides a featherbed,

old-time mattress made for dreams.

The other floats o’er snowy peaks,

as a duvet shaken out and fluffed

yet to settle onto the sleeping  babe

safe, and free of any worry.

 

Each of us needs such a pair

to see our being with clarity

as it remains, from infancy to death;

‘tis the lenses not the world that changed.

This realm’s sweet beauty doesn’t fade

with age or experiences gained.

 

Mankind needs more opticians

to repair and to replace

those lenses that are scratched or cracked

as we injure and are damaged,

and retreat with hearts closed off

full of shame, loneliness, and loss.

 

Since technicians are in short supply

let each have at least a single glass,

bordered by a frame.

A monocle to aid one eye’s vision

see more than ignorance, ugliness, and doom

but also wisdom, artistry, and  grace.