Thirty-Two Years Later

[vagabond]

She pulls her eyes
out of their sockets,
holds them tightly                  don´t see why this is significant
in each hand,
and tells me,

"See the things
I have seen,
the wonders.
This is my gift
to you."

I hold them close to me,                  I wonder if this stanza could be more drastic.. at least I´d erase the “try to”
try to look through them.

I suppose it is the law
of nature their warm sight
fades a bit to dry and hollow—

But these eyes have seen
all the fragments of everything     I´d leave “all the” out and I think the following line is unnecessary as everything already includes all.
good and bad ever seen—

my hoary silence, the fat
of the day, a declension
of starlings against our sky.
 

 if it weren´t for the title it would seem to me as if  “she” were time, giving the subject cataract and some wisdom of old age.
probably just one aspect that can be found in your poem, great read.