Posted by O Donna
(here)
Seeing and sight have more in common then the sighted will admit.
This post of O Donna's, and the images, reminded me of a poem I wrote about something I experienced. To do with seeing and being seen. I wrote it to relay it as it happened.
Invisible
(the true story of the girl on the beach)
It was the end of a long day
spent wandering alone,
amidst the jostling crowds
and busy mouths that shift
beneath the scorching
muscle of the Sydney sun.
I sat down by the beach
to finish my read,
comfortably drowsy in the heat.
The nearest body
fifteen or twenty metres away,
I zoned in on my book.
As I buried my head in its final page
I thought to myself a quiet thought,
‘It’s been a good day I think,
but a lonely one.
I feel like I’m invisible.’
A moment later I felt a stare
drift over the thoughts
and layers in the print.
I laid it down upon my lap,
looked up and there she was.
A blonde little girl,
no more than two or three feet tall.
She smiled at me as if to say
‘Finally, you’ve noticed me.’
Then with a gentle tilt of her head
“You’re
not invisible” she said.
“I can see you.”
She continued to stare.
“I can see you from
all the way over there…
Look...” she said,
and with that she ran back
to the edge of the shore,
to where she’d played,
twenty meters away,
or maybe more,
and once sat down
amongst her friends
she beamed with a smile…
and from there,
she waved.
How to convey how it made me feel... (?) A calm joy reached into my heart in the space of an instant. Making me smile from the inside out. A deep warmth rippled in the space between us. Connecting to something, to someone, with such purity. Life is sometimes purest in its simplest moments. And in a way (on some days) what can be more simple than the need to feel seen, and the willingness in another to be the one who sees?
Children can be so magnificent in their gentle hearts and their honesty.
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