Those Eyes

Those eyes I see them everywhere,
under the sun, through the winds
walking through roman ruins.
Those eyes peer out at me,
trying to communicate, left
mostly to hand gestures which
resemble the form of drinking up...
Those eyes glance by, sometimes in blue
but mostly in the warm brown tones
sipping rakia, vino and mineral water.
Talking, and talking and smiling through wrinkles
which were not there before.
Those eyes are my father s
showing me photographs and talking of the village,
the one I will see on sunday.
How many people get to see the physical spot
wherein their entire genetic universe had its big bang
growing barks of brown wood, smoking lamb and laughter
which causes fear and excitement
to be back in my home - with this history implanted
of our name
in the windy night behind my eyes.
Those eyes which I have beaming still,
how will they look upon you and themselves
when they return, mended and billowing
with calm and might.

M. Lucia