Eyes wide shut
I have come to realize that love makes me blind.
I use the word "love" here not as a synonim of passion, or romance,
but as the dictionary describes,
as a strong attachment,
like the feelings I have for my parents, children,
and the very few friends who managed willingly
or unwillingly to cross the seven bridges
and open the seven doors that lead to my heart.
Before you imagine me as a cold hearted woman,
remember what I said at the start:
love makes me blind.
The people I love have no idea of the power
they have over me.
Because I, the cynical journalist,
become naive as a nun,
taking each and every word as the absolute truth,
unquestioningly,
taking every word without ever adding
the least grain of salt.
Whatever they say, I believe.
Because love makes me blind.
If they say "jump", I will jump,
if they say "run", I will run,
if they say "cross the Pacific in a raft",
I will be at sea with a smile
I never expect a blow, a faux pas, a breach of confidence, a harsh word.
And if they come, it is always a complete surprise.
Because love makes me blind.
Therefore, I need those seven bridges.
I need those seven doors.
I need the secrecy of muted feelings to stay alive.
Because love makes me blind.
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