I hate being invisible
for what it does to you. 
When you fly toward me
I am burdened with
knowing what you don’t.

Every day it wears
me down. The thuds,
the sick crunch of
your little bones,
watching you 
twitch then go 
still on the ground.
I always hope 
you will wake
up, I am crushed
every time you don’t.

I never asked to 
be clear and 
powerless.

In my dreams I have
a face, a voice, and 
hands. You can see
how worried I am
for you, I call out 
warnings, I wave 
you away or 
catch you gently
when you get 
too close. 
You feel soft
and safe in my
hands, your 
light body makes
tiny movements,
it tickles. You see
me smile as you 
fly away. 
You see me.
You fly away.