Their Eyes

A poem about shame, or something even deeper - the power others have to create who we are.

Their Eyes

I step behind a tree.
One car , two cars, three cars pass.
I want to escape the power;
The power of their eyes.

Shame becomes a smaller thing
The first time you reach down
On the side of the road
To pick up a can or a bottle;
Pick it up and put it in your bag
Without hesitation, without waiting...
For traffic to clear.

But the first time, tenth time, thousandth time;
Still you know they see you, watch you.
You know this with or without shame.
You are not immune to their eyes.
Their eyes are a part of your creation
As surely as was your mother.

So sometimes you walk at night
When you can be what you want to be;
Or perhaps more importantly,
You can avoid being what you don't want to be.
You can be nothing...

Nothing but life moving, mind thinking,
Soul wondering as you watch the stars;
Until, of course, the headlights come
And the stars spit you back to earth.

So I step behind a tree
Thinking I can escape,
But their eyes are there in any case.
So I become once again
Something I didn't want to be...
A man who hides behind a tree.

Steve Gillman has been playing with poetry for thirty years. He and his wife Ana created the game "Deal-A-Poem," which can be accessed for free at: http://www.dealapoem.com