Invisible — January 6, 2011


Walking the streets
am I even seen?
A bit of a smile here,
a tentative nod there,
Even a welcoming greeting.
but who’s it really for?

Do they see the little girl
who wishes for a daddy’s love?
Or the young boy
who longs for a real mama?
Do they see the young teen
who’s been filmed and used time and again,
the one who would really like
to find true love?

Different hearts with one face,
which one do they see?
The hearts? The face? Both?
Most don’t look beyond the face.
They don’t want to see below the surface
or be bothered with what’s in the heart.

They do not see the invisible scars
that wind throughout the mind.
They are unaware of the pain behind the eyes
so closely guarded for fear of rejection.
They only see bits of “odd” behaviours
things that don’t quite seem to fit.

Eccentricities? No, she’s too young for that,
but maybe she’s getting an early start?
“Moodiness”? Sudden changes of emotion?
Well, she is a woman, after all!
Most, though, won’t even see those things
for they are too busy to even look.

Invisible she is.
Invisible she’ll stay.
someone is willing to look beneath
the surface of the external
to the hurting wounded
that lie in her heart.

© January 6, 2011

As I Lay Me Down to Sleep — June 26, 2010

As I Lay Me Down to Sleep

As I lay me down to sleep
flashbacks in the mind release.
Pushing forward, images come
as I fight to not come undone.
My body tenses; I cannot breathe,
overwhelmed by what I “see”.
Morphing one image into another,
with silent screams of “no” in my head,
I try to be open to history’s unveiling,
fighting the urge to let the mists return.
But slowly it slips away from me again.
And in the morning I awake
with a new reality like a distant dream.
Is anything ever what it seems?


© June 28, 2010

I Feel – February 7th, 2009

I Feel

Trapped. Trapped. Deep inside.
It feels like I have to hide.

The very truest part of me
is tied into a box you see,
always remaining on the shelf,
always covering my core self.

Some are living their lives outside
in a world so vast and wide.
There’re many others who are caught
in space internal – the land of naught.

A puzzle with pieces you can’t see,
you’ll never meet the whole of me.
With pieces not allowed to show,
I’ve pieces with no place to go.

It feels like I have to hide.
Trapped. Trapped. Deep inside.


© February 7, 2009

I’m more than just a “shell” — September 21, 2007

I’m more than just a “shell”

I’m more than just a “shell”
more than just a “costume”
that insiders come out and put on.

What am I?
Who am I?
I am host…
but am I really separate?
or just a reflection of everyone else?
what is my job?
I share my job
I feel what they feel
when they come forward
I no longer feel separate
am I ever really separate
yes…so I am more than just a shell
more than just a “costume”
but what exactly am I?
I seem to be different from the ones inside
but am I really?
I am both an actor in my own right
and yet I also seem to be the holder of others
the “shell” or “costume”
what is my reality?

I’m more than just a “shell”
or a “costume” with no voice
until someone comes along
and gives me one!

I am my own
and yet I am not
who am I?
what am I?
am I just a prop?
useful only to others
and not to myself?

I’m more…aren’t I????????


© September 21, 2007

%d bloggers like this: