Sometimes They Let Me See Them


They're frightened, always anxious, insecure.
I try to ignore them but those shadows hold allure.
They hide in the trees,
always in the trees.
They watch me and wait for me to walk through my gate.
I try to see them but I look a little too late.
When I look they flee,
always they flee.
There is one who lets me see him from the corner of my eye.
He steps up to my face but doesn't speak or even try.
He stares,
always he stares.
He comes inside but I don't mind him there.
He tries to touch me but I don't feel him there.
He scratches,
sometimes I tire of scratches.
He has something to say, just like all the rest.
The only one to see if I will pass a spirit test.
He can't trust me yet,
I'll make him trust me yet.
None of them like to come inside, they hide out in the trees.
They watch my garden gate crouched on their hands and knees.
I want them to talk but they don't.
Well, most of them won't,
and that's okay.

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