Iris, Still Open

a diptych

I. Then (2011)

        swelling sties around
     the most malicious eyes.

        pupils playing with despair
          in the background,
      regulating the only source
              of light.

          messages emitted
        but never received.

        flashes of rainbows
     and intense emotions.

                iris
            is in bloom.

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II. Now (2025)

                    i once believed my eyes
           were dangerous,
     that swelling gathered where truth
           tried to surface,
        that light was something rationed,
        controlled by whoever stared
                longest.

        back then, messages left my mouth
               and vanished midair.
            i mistook silence for verdict.
         i mistook intensity for meaning.

               but listen to me now.

          the eyes were never malicious.
                  they were young.
                 overexposed.
        trying to translate a world
             that spoke too fast.

        the despair was not behind the pupils.
                  it was around them.
              a room with poor lighting.
        a system that confused pressure
                   with depth.

          rainbows were not hallucinations.
                  they were diffraction.
        light bending because it had to pass
                   through something.

                         and it did.

        i learned that reception takes time.
             that not every signal is meant
                   for the first receiver.
             that some messages travel years
        before finding a body strong enough
                   to hold them.

           i am no longer afraid of opening.
                    i know what it costs.

                 the iris opens
                not to invite harm
           but to let the world be seen
                    as it is.

                     clear.
                 unfinished.
           still bright enough to look at.

This has been sitting in my drafts since October.

Today I opened Facebook, and yes, I am still on Facebook because I love checking my memories, and this one showed up from fourteen years ago.

The original was written in a very spoken-word place. The piece beside it was written later, with more room to see.

It felt right to finally share this today, on the anniversary of the first one.

With that, it also feels like a sign that I should probably start clearing out my drafts. This has been happening a lot lately. I’d love to know what you think about this piece.

Poetry pairs well with coffee. If you like, you can buy me a cup.

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