Brown Eyes

Brief poem about the windows to the soul

These eyes are swollen with secrets,
Rounded with innocence,
A child’s eyes carved upon a woman’s face.

They are painted in mahogany, one shade
Among a spectrum of deep dark irises
Passed down from the frontera of Mexico
And the pueblos of Spain.
A grim tale: the collision of civilizations
Behind a single complexion.

Driven by unhindered curiosity, they blaze wild
In search of beauty, of kind intentions, of
Something to unfold.

Mine are dark eyes, ever-deepening,
The windows to a quiet soul
Lined in kohl and curled lashes, carbon-black.