Friday, 25 April 2014

Anonymity is sometimes a paradox ....

To be truly unknown is no easy task. It takes great effort. Everyone is known to some extent surely? It is perfectly possible of course to create an alter-ego and publish works with no-one knowing who the actual writer or artist is. But that persons' true self will always be known by someone.

Which is where, I feel, the paradox comes in. In day to day life, how can people be surrounded by others and yet feel anonymous?


Everyone ... Someone ... No-one:

All to one,
Something to a few,
Anonymous to many,
Mother, Daughter, Sister, Niece, Friend.
She is all of these things.
Once a lover, a Wife.
Precious titles stolen cruelly.
Although surrounded by love,
She is alone
and feels it like a jagged knife 
run through her heart.
Harrowed and empty.
No arms hold her, safe.
No special attention for comfort
or companionship. 
No eyes gaze upon her anymore
With adoration or lust.
Selfish grief and time
give way to a lonely aching heart.
She yearns for the closeness,
Intimacy of being that special one.
She tries to submerge herself,
In the love of her child, her family,
the care of her friends.
All acting as a bandage over the open wound.
She walked along the street today,
just like yesterday and the day before.
Did you notice her?
She noticed you.
She even smiled and said "Good Morning!".
Your eyes turned to the floor,
head lowered to emphasize 
the disinterest.
Looked upon and unseen,
Ignored.
It struck her just how anonymous she was.
Everyone ... Someone ... No-one.
She is all of these things.


Thanks for reading. x

Reactions:

2 comments:

gibbo101010 said...

What a very heartfelt poem, Lou.

vicky ellis said...

Shit, that's a powerful piece of writing. I can't remember the last time a poem moved me so much.

You are such a beautiful person. And I'm in no doubt that you will feel that gaze again. If you want to.

The gaze still exists you know. It isn't here and now but it can never be erased.

Thanks for sharing that. You couldn't be a no-one if you tried xx