It’s hard to touch my eye without flinching.

It’s hard to open my suspicious eye

to receive the lens on finger inching

toward the center of the light that my

unyielding lid wants merely to protect.

I know without the help of lens to mend

I can, at best, perceive an imperfect,

blurred version of what You, my clear-eyed Friend,

can see without deform. I steel my nerve

against the fear of rumoured pain which all

my disappointment says that I deserve.

I want to shed the doubt that makes me stall.

Forgive me when I shut You out. I think,

in time, that when You touch me, I won’t blink.

“My child, do not ignore the instruction that comes from the Lord, or lose heart when He steps in to correct you;  For the Lord disciplines those He loves, and He corrects each one He takes as His own.   (Hebrews 12:5 The Voice)