Shadows Are Me
SHADOWS ARE ME
I am there, but I am not.
I seem to be, but how could I?
I am my pain, which can’t be seen.
A shadow of yesterday, smoke in your eye.
My words are the wind.
My wishes but a one-liner.
Can I really walk through walls?
Unseen, unheard, totally unascertained?
And this is not a lament.
For I wish not be seen.
Or heard, or felt, or regarded.
It is okay to be a shadow, a sheen on a screen.
An expanse full of souls.
A blank soul without contour.
Words that cannot be discerned.
A presence, that by essence, needs a Yom Kippur.
But there is no atonement.
No redemption for my being.
Just remain an opaque shadow.
I tell my soul: you are not what they are seeing.
You are already an adumbration.
No need to find a corner to hide.
You already lack attention, admiration.
No need to hide or be stealthy soul of mine.
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