FOCUS
A cloth drawn tight across the eyes,
not to blind, but to see.
The world fades,
its noise muffled by intention.
Hands steady,
gripping the edge of silence.
Curves of thought sharpen
in the absence of distraction.
Hair curls like questions,
but the answer lies inward.
No light, no color—
only the shape of resolve.
Vision is not always sight.
Sometimes, it is the refusal
to look away
from what burns within.
©® Coker Favour A.