The Invisible Man

he walks amongst us
whispering prayers under
his breath, with quick,
longing glances to the
Lord above. his bony
fingers pressed together 
waiting for the blessing that
never comes.
he drinks from the cup,
as everyone stares. judging
eyes bore him down. pushing
his sleeves back on his
tent-like jumper, he swigs
again, at the salvation cup, 
and lets the warmth of the 
liquid envelope him, forgetting 
for a moment where he was 
and how he got there.
he eats the stolen scraps
under the punishing sun, as
passers-by walk on, throwing
quick glances, and steam as
they fled on past. he feasts a 
thousand feasts of scraps,
like a pig devours its trough, 
and when he’s done, he rubs 
his stomach, as you do at
christmas lunch.
he asks questions that
nobody answers, shuffling
feet, heads down, backs turned
with whispers of “busy” and
“sorry” barely escaping from
their small, parted lips.
He is the invisible man.
  Invisible to you. Invisible to me.
Invisible to all that see.

Published by Iliana Ike

Passionate creative who likes to explore different art forms for expression, awareness and healing

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