Seeing What Others Cannot - Poem by Orlando Belo
For more than three weeks now
I’ve been in this pitiful state.
I feel pretty stupid talking about it,
because it’s something I can’t help but hate.
The day it began started like any other,
until I got to the bus pick up place.
There were three other people waiting,
but I never looked at anyone’s face.
As I waited, an uneasy feeling of anxiety,
moved up from my feet to my heart.
I noticed something strange and abnormal,
the man in front of me just came apart.
I couldn’t believe what my eyes were saying,
and thought that I was becoming ill.
Maybe I was stressed out, with work and all that,
and it was time for a get-me-well pill.
But it was as I saw, and it was factual,
the man’s inner-self sort of stepped out.
He turned and spoke to another man,
who had done the same, without doubt.
Nervously, I dared to look around me,
And this was happening everywhere.
It was if people and their inner spirits,
had decided to be singularly aware.
It was happening to little children,
to couples, husbands, and wives.
Their once unseen inner selves had begun,
living completely different lives.
I cannot understand or explain this,
and that’s why I’ve come here today.
You’ll probably think that I’m crazy,
and I ought to be locked away.
I can tell you that I do not like this,
and I wish that I couldn’t see,
all these newly separated beings,
who can see, but choose to ignore me.
I have tried to ask them questions,
but they just smile and walk away.
It’s as if they too don’t understand,
why they are all separating this way.
Why can’t other people see what is happening?
It makes me question my very own eyes.
Well, I honestly believe that seeing is believing,
and I do see, and do not tell lies.
Comments about Seeing What Others Cannot by Orlando Belo
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye