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)