Image via Wikipedia

A watchful eye saw something new today.

It was the cornea; the inside of human mind and conscience, where data is confirmed and rendered.

It looks around, taking in the atmosphere, registering images as the pupil retracts.

It is a bright day as the eye looks around, enveloping the sight.

Eyes cannot take in the smell of it

Eyes cannot feel the dank, heavy air in which it lingers, unavoidable as CO2 emissions and yet as invisible as oxygen.

But most of all, eyes cannot hear the resounding feeling of loss and sorrow.

They are limited to what is seen first; they are limited to first impressions.

            It is a field in Africa, where this eye scans the mess.

            “Africa’s darkest jungle is where Africa got its rumble.”

            It is not a pile of bodies, nor a pile of limbs.  It is something larger than that, but smaller in contrast.

            It is not a miniscule specimen of mosquitoes, or a tree deformed from machete sharpening. 

            It is a mark.

            A mark of a diamond engraved in the hundreds of years of struggles.  The hundreds of years of fighting.  The hundreds of years of genocide.

            It is the impeccable raw design that the eye perceives, but with previous research, that gem, the size of a quarter and volume of a cube, remains untouched.

            The eye moves closer, and pulls out a magnifier .  It is dirty; a bit of dirt on it and chipped in locations.  Zales or even Waterford would kill for it, but the eye merely looks at it.

            It was worth probably around 25-30 grand, but the eye was not interested.  It was a blood diamond.