Irony Sunlight

The irony of sunlight is its apparent hope
But it can shed light on things too clear
It penetrates, and stops you from living
Because everything that has eyes can see you
If they please, which they rarely do, but our mind
Can’t show us that

There is an optimum amount of light, too much
Paralyses, like a thousand icy knives pointed at
Every soft mound of skin, no one moves,
They creep around the edges, shift past the spotlights
Not the green-lime spotlights of the stage, no, those
Hide their menace with sweet piñatas
These are the spotlights of concentration camps
They blind their victims, they would be more
Welcomed dimmed, filtered with soft whispers
Of encouragement

Oh! That radiator warmth of the sun, the persistent glare
Like cooling choral voices in cloister walls,
Might be a cure
Dim them down, please, my hands are shaking
Please dim them down