Looking, Maybe Seeing (A Glassy-Eyed Robin)

My eyes lean through a pane of glass as octogenarians and those slightly and much younger share a prayer I am too distracted to take communion in.

I watch a red and brown bird hop along the ground as it looks, and maybe sees.

It comes closer to the window still looking, and maybe seeing, down near its feet. It hops once more and through the pane, holds my eyes within its unthinking stare.

But it is not even a stare, just that that’s where the eyes of the being are pointed.

I immediately envy the owner of the eyes, knowing it feels nothing of what I feel at the moment.

Of the guilt that tilts that my chin downward and places, gently, a wet blanket on a heart made to burn.

Of the knowledge that I, perhaps, am not a good man. While this bird, looking into me, without trying, is exactly what it should be.

Could it be otherwise? Just by being alive and exemplifying the traits of a robin, this robin is a “good” robin. However, my being alive and exemplifying “human nature” would not qualify me as a good man.

This robin is good by being what it is. I am good by denying the parts of myself that seek to rule over the whole. This robin possesses no competing passions, possesses no "should."

The robin cocks its head to the side, maybe in confusion. Looks, and maybe sees, what I am thinking in my eyes. Could it really be confusion?

Could this robin ever confuse an apple for wisdom? Or my help for my enemy? I do so every day, calling what is good evil, and what is evil good.

I comfort myself with the assurance that there is no understanding without confusion, so at least I have some advantage on this bird who looks through me, and maybe sees me.

A priest holds a piece of bread and a cup in the air, saying words we both profess but I cannot understand. I look, maybe seeing, at what he holds and my eyes become glassy now too.

The robin is good because it is meant to look, as I am deficient because I am meant to see.

But I hold this hope of seeing, knowing not what it might mean to see, but only that I should and do desire it.

I cannot say I am glad I am not the bird, it wouldn’t make sense to if the bird looks but does not see as I suspect. But I am glad to be I. 

---------------------------------------------

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/061018.cfm