Reality | Real People Poetry Collective

Nothing Sees Me; an Invisible Breeze

The breeze blew past me

Pushing trees into rustles

And bending green grass stalks

Over and sending leaves and pollen

Over the landscape towards their

Next resting place.

My hair stays still.

My eyes do not water in the face

Of the breeze.

My clothes do not flutter.

My face is not cooled.

Not there.

The clouds, which covered the sky

Plastered onto the blue background,

Rained down, wetting tree bark,

Feeding the tree and its leaves.

Flowers receive their water after

their pollen, and fallen leaves bathe in the mud.

My hairs stays dry.

My eyes are not pervaded with rivulets of

Running water.

My clothes are not wet and my shoes are not muddy.

My face is not wet.

Not there.

And so, I came to know; no matter what I do,

Creation or destruction, it doesn't matter.

Witnesses thank their lucky stars and move on,

Never thinking about the ghost that helped them.

Always assuming I am

Not there.