Bloodshot
Simon Stevens (May 2024)
Fire of my eye.
Tiny grains of sand
Just beyond reach;
Grit sat goading.
Just one careful touch;
Softest caress; rub; nudge;
And then the tickle
Becomes a scratch
Becomes a yearning
Primordial urge.
Sunglasses on a windswept ride –
Styleless fashion icon
Cast against grey relentless sky;
Hidden – cool in place blazing.
‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Jesus!’
‘What’s happened to your eye?’
And then the tickle
Becomes a scratch
Becomes a yearning
Primordial urge.
And then I force it,
Want them red and raw;
Numb. Tears to hide my soul
Let the world see the devil
In my eye. A bitterness,
That something so tender
Could be gone, no more
A gentle part of me passed
While I curled upon the floor.
Hold strong for the boys;
Don’t admit it to the world.
My tears are man’s tears
Blamed upon the fire of my eye.
Note
It’s spring 2024 just at the point where the weather is caught in a relentless battle between April showers and the first days of summer. For me this coincides with the first menace of hayfever where if I am not extremely careful my fists get shoved right to the very back of my eye sockets in a constant grind against the itching.
In the height of it all, in the school holiday, when my parents were visiting from England, my best friend in the world suddenly collapsed. Little Alan who had been beside me for almost 12 years, before I met Melissa, before the kids, before everything, just couldn’t get up or move by himself.
After a night of nursing him, using a syringe to keep him hydrated and just listening to him breathing, the vet confirmed that something was very wrong. The poor chap had liver cancer and didn’t have long left. It broke my heart, but he had to be put down then and there. I held him and nursed him in my arms on the floor as he gentle passed away. When he was finally gone his legs stretched out in one great final sigh.
I know it is completely rational to mourn the passing of a beloved pet, but every part of me rejects the idea and I do this awful being strong thing to get me through. Being strong or making light of it just makes me feel so guilty and ashamed, but I can’t do it any other way.
On some days I found the only way to let myself feel the way I want to feel is by giving into the hayfever. Rubbing endlessly gives you this terrific numbness and just makes the world feel so heavy and distant. And sometimes that’s just exactly what I want.