Opaque People
I’ve never been where they’ve been,
chasing mirage in desert storm.
I look into their still eyes,
see their vision transfixed on illusion,
the shroud of dust spreads on sneaky people.
The gleam of oasis out of their sight,
they lie on wasteland like shadows of dry trees
that have forgotten they were once green,
but I know they’ve lost their roots,
turned into wooden people.
Layer on layer of designed deception
morphs into molds of crafted mask.
The chameleon skin on their faces,
the smoke-screen I can’t see through.
The veil created by insecure people,
the light of reality doesn’t penetrate,
so they make their own darkened world,
don’t perceive when they turn into antiques,
but I know because for a long time now
I walk in the museum of masked people.
They build castles in still air of deep valleys,
no window opens on the opal sky.
The sun rays don’t light up their isolation,
their desolate minds remain obscure in dark,
for the spent sun sets for them unseen,
but the harvest moon doesn’t rise.
They become dark slices of starless night,
don’t know why all the dreams disappear,
but I know why no rainbow enters their heart,
for they’ve turned into opaque people.
September 27, 2019
Originally posted for :
Contest : Pick a line any line
Sponsor : Richard Lamoureux
December 9, 2019
Now posted for Contest : Best free verse July-December 2019
Sponsor : John Hamilton
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