sometimes
i can be
invisible.
i don't usually tell people
but something about this spot
where i can speak to all of you and none of you
at once
makes me want to confess
that..
sometimes--
i become
invisible.
it's a subtle transformation
sleight of hand
or heart
or face
but i have learned the art well
studied among the greats
and i am rarely confronted with a person
who can spot the trick.
it starts with you and me--
only two, never three.
and then set me free
to work
and i will have you knotted up in a conversation about yourself so quickly it passed right by the corner of your eye
i am the ninja
of questions;
listening--
is my highest art.
i will feed you my curiosities and drink in your answers as they get longer and longer
more elaborate
more complex
being molded before my eyes, transforming, shaping themselves,
renewing--
you had no idea
your mind
is so-- alive.
i will search out what turns you on
what makes you talk for hours and hours
where your enthusiasm and spirit rest
and awaken them;
i will find out what's been on your mind, help you knot it up so you can see it all at once
and then untie it so you can get inside
i will make you feel alive--
like the center of the world
all the attention you deserve
all the love you forget
to let yourself experience
you will be enveloped...
and i will believe it--
in those moments you will be all i see
the embodiment of beloved
a wonder of fascination and interest and attention.
-- did you catch it?
like i said,
sometimes
i can be
invisible.
but since i'm being honest,
don't be fooled by my words:
i'm not proud of this unnatural superpower of sorts
though i do take some kind of pride in it
the way people take refuge in last resorts
and take in evidence and reshape it to fit what we already believe
and rearrange the truth so we can all stay in denial
and convince ourselves that things are all right--
-- for a while
but the truth
is that invisibility
is my last resort kind of love, just a cover,
a way to hide...
because if you forget i'm there
you might never ask me to share
you might never have to see me
confused,
panicking,
tongue-tied
-- and honestly,
i don't really trust you with my knots
do you really have the patience and curiosity and gentleness they need
to be untied?
and the truth is that my soul sometimes screams at me
for my silent, engaged face,
for my not interrupting to remind you
that you asked me a question 30 minutes ago...
and i really really wanted you
to help me
figure out the answer
so i could give it to you...
present you with a piece of myself like a gift all wrapped up nicely with a bow tied on top
full of wonder and delight
so that you could enjoy me
just like i enjoy you.
but you lost sight of me
a long time ago,
because i was a bit too slow and still in knots you are too impatient to untie
so i quiet my soul,
instead,
and practice
invisiblity,
again.
i don't know what happens
or why,
and i don't blame you,
and if you feel tricked,
don't.
i am sure i am at fault--
to slip out of sight is cowardly
it is unfair to you...
but it's kind of addicting like smoking cigarettes--
--it gets easier and easier with every try;
i find myself doing it to my best friends
slowly vanishing before their eyes,
as they talk on
my own need to add my own thoughts gives way to a desperation to keep the conversation going
and i feel the molecules in myself evaporate
and somehow disappearance is easier than self-explanation.
and the truth is that
i hate
these games....
the truth is that
i desperately want to be known.
i want you all to see me.
i want you not to glance at me
or to register and recognize
but to see me:
my eyes that change color, my oversized hips, my untameable hair, my many different smiles,
my quirks and my mannerisms
i want you to read the thoughts behind my eyes
to hear them word for word and knot for messy knot
I want to be able to just start a conversation
by telling you what's on my mind,
to share my journal entries
fearless
in the face of questions
and judgment
i don't know what to do with my mind
and the truth
is that sometimes i think i'm trapped inside...
but i think i'm starting to believe that if i let you
you could love this mind
you could sit with me and slowly pick apart every strand and run your fingers through my thoughts
in wonder
and we could take turns
and you could actually look at me and see
and be curious about me to no end
and you'll want to hear every story--
from my kindergarten boyfriend to my fourth grade boy drama,
from trying to fly in seventh grade to trying to drive in eleventh.
you'll know the lessons i learn each day
the amazement i have for blue skies, good songs,
and the hundreds of unknown faces i pass
tracing my steps, from class to class,
you'll know what i pray about,
you'll know how much i care...
and then we'll both laugh,
and i'll discover myself stronger than i think
wittier
easier
and over the years
when we are looking back,
in the good humor given by many years of life,
i'll tell about my adventures with superpowers
back in the days
when
--sometimes--
i could become
invisible.
