Week 10-Sometimes Invisible

Sometimes we choose to be invisible.
We do not want to be seen nor heard.
We desire to be present only to ourselves.
We need quiet time or our own time
to do whatever it is that will fill our weary cup:
to replenish, restore, recharge, restock.

Sometimes we do not choose
invisibility--it chooses us.
We can be present and not noticed.
Wounded, we dissolve into the sea
bobbing up and down with the waves.
Not having disturbed the boats nearby,
we are neither spotted nor rescued.

Or, sometimes we are too distracted
we become invisible having our body
stand straight in front of others,
but our heart steers far away as we focus
our brain and attention elsewhere.
Hearing, but not listening;
seeing, but not opening our eyes to the soul.

Sometimes we choose to be visible.
We are not too weary, wounded, nor distracted.
We are visible to ourselves remembering:
we are children of God, full of truth and beauty.
As we see our true selves, we radiate light,
and others see us also.
We are no longer invisible as we perceive
one another with understanding hearts
distilling unconditional love.

*I write curled up in warm covers listening to the almost unrecognizable sound of rain as it hits the cement outside my windows and I am invisible (thank goodness for you would not want to see me in my PJ's) while I replenish my cup through writing.  The rain pours, drenching the parched earth while my fingers type faster with more urgency.  Rain is only predicted today as it was last week. Two Mondays in a row rain has fallen and my walking with friends has been cancelled, but oh how we need the rain so I don't mind really.  Drip, drop, the pounding has nearly stopped outside as well as inside as my typing begins to slow.  Cameron has finished frying eggs and bacon in the kitchen; the sizzling has ceased just like the rain.  Juliann when little said that rain on the car windshield looked like splattered grease in a pan from sizzling bacon.  For now, all is quiet in the kitchen, outside my room, and inside my room as I close my computer to become visible once more appreciating the newness of a poem that resided in the clouds and poured onto the page like the rain.

My windshield heading home as the lovely
rain and I become visible once more!