I thought I’d become an expert
on the human eye.
I’d seen every look and glance and glare
when people’d pass me by.
They knew my occupation—
a lady of the night.
But I was not a victim.
I chose to live this life.
Eyes that cut, eyes that blame –
everyone was all the same.
How I wished someone would see
past the prostitute in me.
I didn’t do it for the pleasure.
That may seem hard to understand.
I just wanted one man to see me
for the person that I am.
Eyes that pity, eyes that shame –
silently accusing with every name.
All eyes looked, but could never see
the lonely child inside of me.
Then a man―this man― looked at me…
eyes without lust and free of greed,
eyes of age yet rich with youth
that simply said, “I believe in you.”
And like the leper that he chose to touch
“You’re forgiven!” cleansed so much.
Changed from the butt of every slur―
I was now a woman, free and pure.
Eyes that sing, eyes that shout―
eyes that tell what life’s really about.
This man was so much more than he seemed.
This man― my friend―gave me back my dream.
(Taken from “Dare to Dream Again”, by Jeff Chacon, IPI, 2004)