Fatima's Eyes

I have the absolute honor of working with an organization that provides holistic care to folks at no cost. At a recent event, I met someone who just stayed in my heart. The ten minute version of her life that she shared with me held all the unspoken grief and lingering healing that we are all holding from the pandemic. This draft is so deeply imperfect, but I’m happy to have made a start on it.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedFatima was a teacher.Until a few months ago. Three years of isolation meant freedom to serve her students,she said, and then, the tidal wave of "normal" swept her out.She tells me this while she looks just over my shoulder at something that lives behind her eyes. Fatima has the look of a nocturnal being,just emerged into summer noon --knowing that in order to surviveshe has to lie,pretend that she can see and understand whenthe only thing in her vision is brightness and pain.Take no time for gentle awakening,live with dark spots in her vision in daytime,white spots invading her sleep at night. Fatima's soft-skinned eyes carry unshed tearsfor miles. When she blinks,the tears refill the ocean of that grief that drowns her.