Pinhole Chapel
I make a chapel of the pupil:
a round nave where light kneels
through a pinhole, contrite and clear.
The slit lamp hums its psalm,
fluorescein flares like incense
on the corneal altar.
A child’s eye opens, a stained glass rose:
green shard, gold flicker,
a moving parable of sight.
The retina waits, patient and merciful,
to turn radiance into record,
illumination into proof.
There is confession in the flash:
the cataract’s slow surrender,
a scar’s pale Amen.
Outside, the hospital hums like choir practice;
inside, a single pulse translates light to vision,
vision to memory, memory to grace.
When I step back, gloves powdered with light,
the child blinks, astonished by color:
a face, a wall, a blue coat,
the world restored by filament and faith.
I close the instrument, whisper thanks
to the small, unwavering cathedral
that lives inside us all.
David A. Lee is physician and an emerging poet based in Houston, Texas, whose work explores memory, human connection, and the liminal spaces between perception and reality. He holds a background in medical science and philosophy, bringing a reflective and inquisitive lens to his writing. His poetry draws inspiration from both contemporary and classical literature, emphasizing vivid imagery and emotional depth. His poems are forthcoming in Mobius, Eunoia Review, and Unbroken Journal. David is currently developing a collection of original poems examining time, identity, and place.
Amethyst Review 