Middle Clarity Poem by Kelly Vinal

Let me see it for myself, when the air is
Not obscured, and there’s no denial of
Mortal sight between the harvest moon
And here
I own this state of clouded view, the
Neglect of objectivity, my design -
Inadvertent, creeping like the sheltered moss
Of an ancient English moor
So,
No infractions to the wind
For haze that drifts across the plain -
No smears of reputation,
Nothing to defend -
But pain
Show me paths of gilded grandeur,
Through snow-capped peaks of time,
In grace and splendor -
Grant me space to make my peace,
With the innocence of a child’s eye,
And the wisdom of old men -
These middle times of mine