The Unseen

Sometimes I wonder
     just how life would be.
If I were a person
     that people did see.
If I could be more than
     a burden to bear.
If I could be seen,
     would they really care.

If I could be seen,
     would I even be heard?
Or would people go on,
     ignoring my word?
Would I make a difference,
     or be in the way?
If I could be seen,
     just what would they say?

If I could be seen,
     would they argue and fight?
Would they do all they can
     to keep me out of sight?
What would it take
     to have a real voice?
If I could be seen,
     would I have a choice?

Sometimes it is easy
     to just close our eyes.
But does that really keep us
     from hearing the cries?
The unseen are many,
     some are yet to be born.
If I can be seen,
     my heart should be torn.

A torn heart should cause me
     to look deep inside.
Then look at all others
     with eyes open wide.
To look past the slogans
     and self-proclaimed rights.
And see all the unseen
     as beautiful sights!

But what do I do
     if the unseen is me?
If I walk through this life
     and no one can see?
If my voice falls on deaf ears,
     and no one does care?
If I am not seen,
     would God still be there?

I have the answer,
     at least to that end.
I’ll never be unseen
     by the One who’s my friend.
And even when people
     may pay me no mind.
God sought me out
     until Him I did find!

© 2016 by Tom Lemler

I have been referred to more than once as an invisible man.  All of my life I have felt that I’ve lived at some level of being unseen.  I know a big part of it is my brain wiring and the fear of people that produces.  I’m also not an aggressive salesman of myself or my ideas so the things I share are often easily overlooked in favor of that which is being pushed by someone with a “charismatic” personality.  As I began my weekend cleaning tonight and was thinking about being unseen, this poem quickly formed in my mind.  It didn’t take long as this poem was forming to realize that the very heart of it wasn’t about me being unseen but about the cry of an unborn child wanting to be seen and hoping, praying, believing, that being seen would make a difference in someone’s decision to let this baby live.  I pray that we would open our eyes to those who are unseen and show them the value that God has given them as His creation.  I pray that we would become “champions” for those who are given no value by the ones who should value them most.  I pray that we would know that even in our darkest and loneliest hours, we are never truly unseen.

In prayer,

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