My eyes survey the room for a face familiar
That I hope not to find.
How would I greet them?
What would I say?
I’ll take the chair in the corner,
It’s comfortable but stiff.
I can hide there quite nicely
and
just look away.
Read my book in earnest,
Or pop my headphones in my ears.
I can ignore the whole world
As well as all of this.
My mere presence mocks them.
Bald heads fill the room.
Some covered, some scarred.
Empty holocaust eyes piercing
With lacrimal glands restrained,
Wanting to steal the very life from within me.
Sallow flesh covering emaciation
Hanging loosely from brittle bones.
My skin in contrast, is tan and firm;
My eyes clear and bright.
I am out of place in this land
My mere presence mocks them
They are a family of strangers.
Thrown together by similar destinies
All different; yet all the same.
Touched by the malignancy of life.
Each with their own set of hopes and dreams;
Most of which will never be realized
Each wanting to tell their own story
Of who they are; who they hoped to be.
Each talking loudly with soft quiet voices
Saying “Don’t forget me, I was here.”
Still, my mere presence mocks them.
Silent Screams (and other odd sounds) 
March 21, 2017 at 12:53 pm
Well done ……. your presence is a simple gift to others from God ….. you are here for reasons that you may never know …… you have touched souls of anonymous people and you are not aware …… you have touched the hearts of others in the same manner ……. it is your gift, your mere presence.