Snow-Blind

 Apr 4 2011

In the vitreous humour

of my weak left eye

the remnants of blood

have softened.

They are no longer hard black dots,

like a rack of runaway bowling balls

silently rolling

left, when I turn my head right,

tumbling and bouncing in slow motion

through the viscous ether

of inner space.

Now, they are amniotic butterflies

fluttering about like motes of dust,

inscrutable, translucent

smudged.

Mostly, I’m used to them.

But they become intrusive

in blizzards like this,

against a white monochrome world.

Almost painfully bright

when the clouds disperse.

Like looking through gauze, or blinking back tears

the world will never be clear

again.

So I find comfort in dusk

overcast, and all-day rain.

Or when I’m looking past

these ever-present reminders

at the printed page, the written word,

concentrating on the worlds they conjure

inside.

It’s hard to tell

when there’s no more snow,

if it’s falling, or blowing, or both.

When all of us

are snow-blind.

But somewhere, above the clouds, it’s clear.

And down below, enclosed in night

when the floaters disappear.


I experienced a retinal tear just about 1 year ago. For a few days prior, there were flashes of light in the periphery, and then on the fateful day a shower of tiny black dots falling down over my left eye, and filling it up. Laser surgery has sealed the tear, and the retina is apparently fine. This is idiopathic:  in people of my age, more common than I had previously thought; and even more so in people who are very near-sighted. I subsequently learned that my father had the same thing happen; which may suggest a familial component, or may be simply coincidence, since he is even more myopic.  

Anyway, as the poem says, the floaters have become far less problematic. But against a bright lightly coloured backdrop like snow, they are suddenly and dramatically more noticeable. And then at night, I get to console myself by feeling totally normal.

There was an unseasonable blizzard on the day I wrote this. Almost white-out conditions. And other than that, for the past couple of weeks it's been consistently sunny, with lots of snow on the ground. So I've taken to wearing sunglasses -- routinely. In both circumstances, these floaters have become highly intrusive. And an inescapable reminder of not only what happened, but what may still (another retinal tear, or worse, a retinal detachment). I realize I've never written about this incident. So this poem afforded a nice indirect entry into what is really another (boring!) "nature" poem! But I hope with a fresh and more personal twist.