When you're old enough to lose someone, she said,
maybe you will understand how I feel. But it's not
about age, it's about the eyes. I can tell your eyes
have not seen enough, and it hurts me to know that
I am so far from where you are. With your notions of
love and loss that are copied from poets you always
loved for the words they wrote that were missing
in you. I judged you for that.

There are moments when you remind me of
the person I was before it all came to pass, when
I didn't know that the most beautiful places in
the world, which I vowed to stand upon with my own two
feet, those will fade away. And a passport stamp only
proves I'll probably never go back. And I hate you for it.

When you're old enough to adjust your dreams, she said,
it's better if you never share them. The disappointment in
the eyes of those who believed in you, is what I see in
your face right now. And I don't quite know how I feel
about that.
This is not a pipe
the middle of the second stanza flowed bizzarely. some of the line breaks felt awkward there.

the first and third stanza were beautiful. and the penultimate/final line of the second stanza was perfect (anyone who has travelled extensively knows that feeling). I hated how you ended the piece, but not in a way i wish you would ever change it. it made me physically uncomfortable. after a forray into (what i felt was) incredibly relatable territory i wanted you to tell me what i should feel. but you refused. and it hurt me not to know what i should feel, teetering on the brink of some abstract truth that you've (i've) spent your (my) life journeying for.

and, truly, its not about age, and it is about the eyes. some eyes can move mountains with their rage. other eyes can move mountains with love. but both sets of eyes understand power- and the travel (the journey of the soul from space to place to crevice to desperation to africa to near death to salvation to the warm water shower) is the gateway for that power.

Do you think i'm old enough to lose someone? I think I am. not with the desperation of a child but with the cold eye of a priest who has bore witness to enough death so as to have dulled his desire to go to heaven.

I was drunk when i first read this. but it is a poem that made me feel, regardless of circumstance, and i felt like i understood what this poem wanted me to know. great piece Carmel.

Just a quick thought:
This was relevant. Then again, a lot seems relevant lately.
The "which I vowed" statement was a bit wordy and clogged the midpoint of the piece.
Once I take my own bias out of the read, it really was a pleasure. It really was.
Promises meant a lot back then.
Until about the 5th read the rhythm (of the middle stanza in particular) was really weird, but now I don't think it is at all. The double and in the middle stanza jars for me.

I'm not going to go into how much I love each bit of what it's actually saying because I vowed to have a productive day today and I've just spent ages reading this instead.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!