Behind
the lens
I
glimpse at this life
Within
a square.
Peeking
with one eye
While
covering my face,
I
am revealed to a vignette
Of
this world
While
my identity is concealed.
The
world cannot see me behind my camera,
And
I cannot see it.
Through
my anonymity,
I
am released from the grasp of the world’s weight.
With
judgments temporarily gone,
I
am left to uncover and appreciate the
Good
and the miniscule:
The
crack in a wooden fence,
The
cobwebs on a path light,
The
rusty chain links on the side of a dumpster,
The
peeling paint on a bench seat,
The
back of a sunflower.
Behind
this lens
I
give the insignificant the attention it craves.
I
caress the fuzzed green of a stem, up
Until
I reach
Its
obvious beauty.
Yet,
I view it from a different angle,
My
own angle,
Examining
the back of each petal,
Giving
credit to its creases
As
they follow each other up
To
the browning tips of
Yellow.
Behind
my lens
I
am in control.
Focused
on views,
Not
the words
That
reveal our imperfections.
I
am in charge
To
see
Only
what I want to see,
Because
life always looks better
In
photographs.
Jill Jacobs © 2009
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