Beauty, they say, lies in the eyes of the beholder.
What do you see when you look at me?
What do I see when I look at you?
What do we see when we look at ourselves?

Do you see my strength, my poise, my propriety?
Do you see my fury, my pain, my struggle?
Do you recognize my voice, my silence, my writing?
Do you understand my view, my words, my expressions?

When I look at you,
I see myself in your eyes,
And I know you care.
I see the frown, the smile, the laugh, the tears;-
And they mirror my mood.
I see you speak, and my flurry is calmed.
I see you reach out and pull me out of the mess I made.
I see admonishment come when it is due,
And encouragement present whenever needed, as if on cue.

Do we see the greatness in ourselves?
Do we see the dormant potential,
That could transform our lives if we just tried harder?
Do we see the acts and words and thoughts,
Deliberately fashioned to delicately hold up the fragile,
Purposefully carried out to strengthen and polish?
Do we see the shoulders that could be leaned on;
The laps that could be cried upon;
The smile that could change someone’s day;
The hands that could touch and mould and reach beyond barriers?

Maybe we do see better with our eyes closed:
Then maybe we could see beyond the facts and masks;
Then maybe we could feel without touch or reason;
Then maybe we could act, not to be seen, but to leave a mark.
Indelible, pure, divinely beautiful marks on one another.