today’s thought — the true nature of another may be found in their face.
not the symmetry, though this plays a part. not the aesthetic, though many are distracted thereby. but the manner in which the muscles lay when at rest, the places where, even at rest, they are tight, the planes and angles created by countless moments painted, like pancake mix, like stage paint, over them.
i look at images of people i know. i see more than i am willing to say. strangers often hate me for the things i see in their faces. actually, they hate me because i tell them and they have worked so hard not to see it themselves.
but i always see beauty. no matter what has layered itself over top. in every one of them beauty. usually the haunted corner of a mouth, or the way the muscle over the brow persists in that littlest quirk that indicates a defiant grasp upon hope. or the way the mind behind the eyes soundlessly displays in a way i cannot describe with words, but i can see nonetheless.
sometimes i forget that the things i see aren’t always what are felt or lived, but what would be, could be. sometimes i confuse the two. sometimes i wish i could reach in and pull up what lies beneath… rescue the drowning victim… kiss life into them… so when i raised my head, the only things i’d see, the only thing there… would be the beauty… not the weariness, not the fear, not the sad, mad, despair.
but i cannot. that’s the thing about eyes. they can look, and a look can touch… but what is seen cannot, by being seen, be changed.
and my hands are clumsy.
and my words, clumsier still.
but oh, the things i see.