To Be Seen


When I was a girl,
and then yesterday, too,
I used to pray,
not for world peace
or an end to poverty,
but instead,
to be seen.

I would get found
in a game of Hide and Go Seek
because I would run out
from my place of hiding
when a car drove by,
just in case
that car
held a person who would see me,
who would stop the car and say,
“You, you right there,
you’re a special one.”

It didn’t matter that
my mother said it daily.
I needed it,
even then,
from someone who didn’t have to love me.

When I see a special little girl now – aren’t they all? –
I stop her,
“You, you right there,
you’re a special one.”
I see her face light up.
I see myself.
I see a moment of peace.

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