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DO YOU SEE?
by Francis Smith

(first published in “Only the Dead Can Kill: Stories from Jail,” ed. Margo Perin)

Some say the eyes are the windows
To the soul
When you look in my eyes
Do you feel bold . . . get mesmerized
And try to hold my gaze
Or does the pain you see
Make you catch your breath and turn away?
 
When you look at my soul
Do you feel whole
Feel more secure in your role . . .
The part you play every day
Every day that you close your eyes
To the realities
Suffered by me and my breed
A holocaust
Right here at home
On these inner-city streets.
 
When you look in my eyes
Why do you gasp . . .
Catch your breath?
Do you see the wreckage past . . .
The senseless death of innocence?
 
When you look at my soul
Does it look withered?
Do you see all the nights I cried
Rivers cold I shivered
Lost all alone
Without a hand to help me home.
 
So tell me . . . what do you see
Can you see me at the age of three
Running through Tenderloin streets
Surrounded by pimps, bums, junkies, freaks
 
Can you see me at the age of nine
Contemplating suicide
Drinking wine at the age of ten
Are my eyes dim?
 
How about eleven, twelve, thirteen
Smoking crack and PCP
Log cabin, YGC
 
Can you see the man that molested me
Even to this day
The painful price I pay
 
If you look through my windows
You should pay a toll to see my soul.
I paid
Every single day.
 
Take a look now
Do you see the anger
All the chaos, constant danger
Who stabbed me five times from behind
 
Was it a stranger
Or a friend
Can you see the end
Did I lose or will I win?
 
When you look at my soul
Is it ugly
Is there even a true likeness of me?
Bright blue eyes, crooked smile.
 
Do you see me as a loving child
A cocaine freak
Do you see the athlete and the geek?
 
When you look through these windows
To my shoulders do you feel my strength
Or does what you see make you fold
Old, hollow, cold
 
Can you see the stains and the bruise
Would you wear my worn-down
Tennis shoes.
 
When you look in my eyes
Do you see my pride
The wealth of love deep inside
 
Do you understand why I’m free
Why I wear my heart on my sleeve
Go ahead, take a look
My life is an open book
 
Just remember
Each time you pretend
To turn the page
Take a gaze
 
See the precious life I saved
Then knock on the door
And stay.

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