Transparent

The color of the morning

seemed the same dull grey.

The air I breathed in

felt the same, sour and stale.

But as I yawned aloud like I do,

no sound escaped my gaping mouth.

I looked down to count my scars

as I do every morning,

for the past

is where I always start.

But the scars, the skin,

the whole of my body

seemed to be made of glass

amalgamating with the putrid air.

I screamed, I yelled, I cried

ravaging my invisible throat

with a hope based on despair

but nary a sound escaped.

Heed me, sister please

help me see my flesh with your eyes.

Brother, listen to my wails

lend me your ears to hear myself.

But none of them turned,

None of them even twitched their ears.

My sound and skin, it seemed,

were no longer inside the lines of my being.

They never saw me before, anyway

Neither did they hear,

I console.

But what eats into me is that

nor can I myself, anymore.

But, with my fading mirage,

the secrets come out,

the words that were caged to spare my ears

were now let out.

They burned my wind-colored body

and shred the faith I gathered over years,

but with it came a power

of knowledge, of fear.

With my flesh, I let go of the dread

that held me back

and I bit into the gut

of the scar-makers in my past.

My unseen eyes savored their pain.

My unfazed gait contorted with disdain.

The faceless anonymity

and the soundless voice

finally set me free.

The song I sang without my voice

was the sweetest one yet.

And the smile I made with a transparent face

was brighter than the sun that set.