What You Cannot See
written by: Heidi Baker
@heidib19
I wish to drop down out of sight.
I speak of myself and the load I carry:
Pockets full of doubt, handfuls of hope,
buckets of ignorance hung around my neck.
If not for this last burden, of not knowing
how to escape, I would vanish from here.
I could tip-toe. I could crawl. I could evaporate,
a silver mist barely noticed,
coming together again as legs, arms,
ears, memories intact,
in a place safer than where I cannot leave.
I am from any country on the globe, bent from
and bending back against loving insanity
played out behind too many front doors.
You see my small size, my wide-open eyes,
and mistake me for innocent, unwounded.
I cannot show you any marks; none were left.
Or I will not show you. I have yet to find my voice.
She floats beside me in the night time
whispering a golden melody, “I’ll fly away oh Glory,
I’ll fly away, in the morning…”
When in years hence we meet,
backs straight, full-sized,
I will have a tale of strength to share.
- Remind Me - March 28, 2020
- What You Cannot See - August 9, 2019
- Beauty Is Not In The Mirror - September 2, 2018
