The Invisible Man

Hidden in plain sight

Sometimes I can slip
behind a cool breeze
into some mysterious void
and become invisible.
I can walk or sit
in a crowded place
like a playground filled with children,
and become invisible.
The children swirl around me
open-mouthed, laughing, and giggling.
Their eyes dance from point to point,
but never lay their sparkling glances upon me.
I only peer at them
from the edge of a cool breeze,
concealed behind the folds
of some unidentifiable eternity.

A poem by Pemba Umoja