Invisible

Heat from the pavement rises up my feet
              or is it from the bodies pushing, nudging, jostling
handbags, backpacks, paper bags 
   are instruments of pain
bruises blooming
words forming, 
   stopped before they are borne to cause more harm
        
Roar from traffic
              or is the stampede of thoughts that 
              race through my head
red cars, yellow taxis, silver, grey, black, white
all the same, noise pollution, air pollution, soul pollution
the sound box churning, 
swirling with acrid smoke and cracked mirrors
words floating, never landing

Glare from the sun 
              or from the many faces that look but do not see
black, white, short, tall, wide, heartshaped, blue, brown
reflecting sadness, emanating pain, stifling pain
words unspoken, words lost
words to define, to give shape, to validate 
until the words are found, there is only the void.

Intro to Poetry, Day 2: Face

How are you?

Brows furrowed in consternation,
                    reschooled, rearranged into too bright a smile. 
"You look fantastic! So much better now!"
   follows all too quickly
A shuffling of feet. when can i politely take my leave? 
   without seeming rude, ungrateful,
   without causing worry, offence?

"Are you resting enough?
How are you feeling?
Are you eating well?
Are you back to normal?"
              i mumble something or other,
   eager to get away from
   the concerned glances that are shot my way.

Am i fine?  i feel fine.
But i guess
   the scalp peeking out from my closely cropped mane,
       the scar adjacent to my lip, mostly faded, but still mocking,
           the shadows under my no longer sunken eyes,
                                            hinting at darker days
surprise, shock, evoke concern & sympathy
from those i chancely encounter.

I am fine.