(I) Invisible

I like the quiet of the morning.
When the songs of birds fade into the curtain of clouds
and everything seems to stop
except the beating of my heart...
When I walk that thin line between night and day
and linger 
in a self-made loneliness.

Then 
darkness blooms into a space of light
and colors and sounds and smells
intensify like a deafening orchestra
that smother me till 
I am overwhelmed 
with life.


Sometimes I feel invisible. 


...As though my being here
does not affect the rhythm of the world-
that my song does not make the choir sweeter
nor does my mind contribute anything
to the syncopation of the universe.


Sometimes I feel invisible.

Even among those I love, 
I blend into the woodwork
like an outcast chameleon
whose eyes watch with wonder
all the zest and energy of essential souls.

I marvel at my family's laughter and voices-
as it melds into a vase of utter beauty
whose flowers are always fragrant and flourishing.

I fuse into the background like a gray watercolor,
and envy the confidence that makes them fly
with elegance and precision.

Do they know how much I love them?
Do they understand how fleeting the years?
How fragile the time?

Do they know that those empty moments
between night and day
is when I yearn most
for their soft hands to hold-
for their gentle eyes to see me as I am-
for their  resilient lives to always touch mine?

Sometimes I feel invisible-
when the day opens up
and engulfs me in a journey of reality...

and I have no wings.