We do live lives of exposure, we choose to pretend
at least someone in your life has some pain to mend.
Perhaps all their own and meant for no one alone
beyond the simple exclusion of all of our unknown.
Would our lives matter to anyone might we have met
in a different time, an era, a century ago, or just not yet.
She claimed to me in tears one day ‘I’m invisible’
my tears began, I couldn’t stop no way was I able.
In grief I yelled her way, I am looking at you now
only then did I realize my life would become this, how
did I get here, how did the world become so beyond
simple reasoning, sweet reckoning, sadly so fond.
If I walked along a path on a late summer afternoon
could I at least imagine seeing you during the full moon?
© Scott F Savage 8/2020