Cataclysmic Cataracts

Summary

"Cataclysmic Cataracts" is a reflective poem that explores the emotional journey of undergoing cataract surgery, transitioning from fear to gratitude for renewed vision.

Abstract

The poem "Cataclysmic Cataracts" delves into the personal experience of the author, who initially views cataracts as a harbinger of aging and a threat to their passion for reading and writing. The narrative quickly shifts to the author's encounter with Dr. Sandra, an angelic figure, who performs a laser surgery that is likened to a scene from Star Wars. The procedure is swift and painless, leading to a rejuvenation of the author's sight, akin to the clarity of youth. The poem concludes with an expression of thanks to those who supported the author, including editors who helped refine the work.

Opinions

Cataracts are portrayed as both a protective veil against the harshness of reality and a curse that obscures one's vision.
The author expresses a deep fear of losing their sight and the ability to engage in intellectual pursuits.
Dr. Sandra is depicted with reverence, her skill and compassion making the surgical experience a comforting one.
The surgical process is described with a blend of trepidation and wonder, using pop culture references to convey its technological marvel.
The poem emphasizes the joy and relief of regaining clear vision, comparing it to a "bright new day" with the vibrancy of youth.
Acknowledgments are given to individuals who contributed to the poem's creation, highlighting the collaborative nature of writing and editing.

A poem about seeing the world with a new pair of eyes

Photograph by Efe Kurnaz on Unsplash

Cataracts are a kindness to shroud reality in a mist, to protect your eyes from seeing things by far better missed.

To soften the sight of advancing years of hard wear and tear, to calm and alleviate the onset of seeing old age getting near.

Cataracts are a blessing and sometimes they are a curse. They can help to stop you from seeing how things are getting worse.

That sprinkle of a wrinkle in your weather-worn face, do you really want to see it when the mirror you grace?

But I like to read and think and write and cataracts are the start of a long, slow death by a premature loss of sight. It gave me such an awesome fright, that in less than a minute....

..........I was well and truly in it, a taxi ride to a hospital, San Juan Grande in Jerez. I was touched by the hand of an angel, Dr. Sandra, I could feel her breath blow softly across my nose. She smelt like a beautiful rose. There are some compensations, I like to think, I do suppose.

Laid-back with a mask over my left eye, it teared up and I began to cry. Then Sandra wheeled up a machine with a laser, more precise and faster than a cut-throat razor.

It sounded like R2-D2 from the blockbuster film Star Wars. Whirring, warbling and trilling, though it wasn’t quite as thrilling as a break in the Azores.

In less than minutes five, still kicking and full of glee, they wheeled me out to Maria who slowly took me home. And I could see a bright new day with the eyes of a teenage me, in full-panoramic, technicolour de-luxe, 3D, not chrome.

Footnote. They say that failure is an orphan and success has many parents. This poem, if it is a success, does indeed have many parents. Thanks and gratitude must go to Joe Lucafor fairly pointing out the need for a re-write of the middle section. And, of course, thanks must also go to Britni Pepper for very patiently waiting for me to sort out far too many carriage returns. She even offered to do it for me, bless her cotton socks. Any remaining faults are mine only, what shine there is, is all the more brilliant for the help and support of our marvelous editors mentioned above.