Invisible? No.
Have you ever felt invisible?
The hardest thing about my being invisible
Is not “not” being seen
It is not being seen as I am—not seeing me.
People say they are colorblind.
How can that be?
When you see purple flowers,
Or Red or Yellow ones,
Do you say that?
Why would you say it about me?
Why would you want me to believe that you don’t see?
Have you ever felt that you are not heard?
When you have a voice like mine
And people don’t hear you
It is not because they don’t hear
As much as it is they don’t understand.
People say that we are all the same.
How can that be?
Would you fail to recognize the roar of the bear
Or the slithering slide of the Snake or the song of the bird?
Do you hear that?
Why would fail to hear me?
Why would you want me to believe that you really do hear me?
These questions plug up the waves
Of a brain and heart that won’t separate
Together they bring my reasoning
And my feelings
Into alignment, but there is pain
People say that I’m being too sensitive
That we’re all the same
How can that be?
We don’t feel the same way about things
Or see them the same way at all.
We hear it differently. We miss!
We miss the clues
We don’t follow up on the details
We’re not observing,
Not listening
Mostly because it’s already decided.
Stereotypes.
Prejudices.
Bigotry.
It’s inside all of us
Except we don’t see
Don’t hear
Don’t recognize all that is inside the we!
It matters. It matters.
There is nothing that matters more
Than to know that you’re understood
That you’re heard and
That what you really see is me.
P.K. McCary, Copyright 2010
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