Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Invisible

Her whole life, that's what she felt:
Invisible.
We would go places together,
And on arriving she would say,
"Do you think they know we're here?"
On leaving,
"They didn't even notice me."
And I would muse,
'What is that all about?'
We would talk for hours
About things that meant so much
Each of us holding our position.
At the end she'd say,
"You just don't see my point."
Now she is gone a year or more
And All I see is her
A kind gentle voice,
A soft sweet Presence
In a big loud world.
Sweet doves of peace
Resting on shoulders of loved ones.
Her quiet claim on activism
"The least we can do will be enough,
If everyone does their little bit."
Gazing off,  dreaming she said,
"I'm visualizing a world so
different than this one,
a world of love."
Yet each time we were in a group
We'd leave and she'd say,
"They never even saw me."
Is it necessary that we see
or more important that we act?
Will her little bit be felt
Eons after she is gone?
I do believe.

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