Behind Eyes

Nashville, Tennessee

The walls at the Econo Lodge are yellow. At night, light pours in from the parking lot flood lamps. I hear people walking by and last night I heard a woman cry.

His skin is dark like cherry. So dark, it’s red underneath. He wears overalls and has a gap as big as the Cumberland River between his two front teeth. He asks if I need more towels and stands at the door while we talk for a while. He says he moved to Tennessee from Mississippi.

The thing about the South is people talk to you for a while, tell you where they’re from and what they like to eat. And they’ll keep on going talking to you for a while longer. Here they ask if you want to meet their friends, cause you’re new here and you probably don’t have friends yet.

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The thing about the South is people talk to you for a while. Tell you where they’re from and what they like to eat. And they’ll keep on going talking to you for a while longer.

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We all need people who behind eyes have wisdom woven with compassion who make it their prerogative to see you. With heart and thought, build you. But I fear the wise eyes of the world are lessening behind screens. When the whole world can look at you, a whole town, a whole family, but none see. When wise eyes are sun on a plant, calling it to grow upward toward sky, what happens when one has never been seen by wise eyes? It takes no pre-requisite to be that person who behind eyes has wisdom woven with compassion. You must only be willing to take the time to look with heart and listen with eyes.

Here in the south, churches line streets and the trees are soft and green. People move slow like molasses and speak like molasses too and friends are easy to find.