Photo by Dmitry Ganin / Unsplash

The ache of not being
Of no one caring
Of taking up space
And no one noticing

Has a way of hollowing out
Who are you are deep inside
It echos
It bakes
It stings
And it stays.

It tremors in love
It tremors in joy
It tremors in failure
Like long shocking echos
of grief.

The loss of something not had.

It echos and throbs
And drains color from day
Until all is gray

Because really, who knows?
Not one person has asked.

Until You.

You called from the quiet
From the lost barren waste.

You whispered of purpose
Of love and of grace.

You saw and you called
You bent and you heard

Your coming like the dawn
Seeping between bars,

“Great joy to all people!”

And I tremored,

“but where…
Are these people?
We are not worthy”

"All over. And here.
They are them
And her
And him
And... you.  

In dung heaps of scorn.
In corners forgotten,
In byways of nonbeing.

I have come for those ignored,
Those slighted
Those not worth the hating.

I have come for all people
For non people
For you.

I have called you by name
You are mine."