SEEN
Arising from morning I found myself invisible Hidden, from what must be. I strode along in contemplation under the amber sun. Its rays cut into my core. Warmth upon my face, A wonder to think, this golden streak.. it was plainer than me to perceive. I walked past distant churches, Their choir voices carried on the wind, I stepped up to the doors, Trying to find a way in.. The man at the door looked right through me, His eyes plainly did not reflect, And when I tried to look back at him, I remembered my undetectable circumstance I tried to open the cool shiny brass, But to no prevailing success, I tried to worship the God, But I couldn’t get passed the Minster step. It took me a minute this time, To again recall my state, To again remember the thing at hand, That You can’t open doors, or ask for help, When one has no solid hands or face. I moved from the large cathedral, To stand against the ground, When seeing from my blank façade around the place, where should lay my fleshly feet, Were foggy fallen clouds. I tried to retain my clear headedness, I tried to reform my grip, but how can one grasp anything, If they haven’t got even their fist.	Saltiness filled my eyes, But still I lacked even that, The dream was there magical, But then that was salt filled black I strolled to a pagan place, Beckoning for the answers, Surely someone likely would, Know of this life’s sweet chapter. But a life, a moment, a time forgotten, A soul that’s lost, cause body’s departed, Can’t murmur with no arched orifice, So this time I tried not the door, But turned my mysterious place Down the road I continued to trot, Yet in an isolated shape My hope was dwindling, My timelessness worn thin, My mind was fading Having nothing to contain itself in.. When upon the place, To walk further on, A fork stood enchanted in the road, markedly, a man, waved there. As though here and now to reap what I’d sowed His voice carrying on the wind, calling my nameless name(?) -again- again, he called my name his beard was long, his eyes filled with rain his voice enchanting, his hair was rays	I looked around, unattainably It couldn’t be. at last was someone, that could finally see.. Approaching in silence, I stood in his grace, his sadness falling upon me, I couldn’t bare to face.. “Little child, you search for the truth, when clearly it’s chiseled already inside of you.. How can a church that’s doors are all closed, have any answers for you to behold, how can the pagan’s give you what you need, if you already know, blind they can’t see.. How is it now, that even with me here, It’s as if you can’t see, As though you can’t hear… you are invisible, for.. you don’t exist.. you are just fabricated, upon my wish.. But – go in this world, through me walk, and you will stand out, as the most perceptible one.. save for fear that you ever, forget who I am.. for you are indistinguishable, if you know not this man.” Heather Lynn Reilly return to poetry