Tomorrow, But Not Today

I’m not a shoe

tossed in a corner

or an island

lost in the sea.

I’m not an orphan

or an unwanted pet,

but I might as well be,

because I’m alone.

 

I’m surrounded by people,

but I’m all alone.

Some people laugh with me,

some give advice,

some ask for help

or tell me I’m neat,

but no one seems to stop

and notice who I really am.

 

I feel so lonely inside

that I’ve started spinning

a shell to cover myself

and hid

that strange something inside me

that is me.

I don’t want to hide,

but I must.

Otherwise people will see

what I’m really like.

Then they will smile and say:

“What a funny kid.”

 

Tomorrow I’ll try and leave my shell…

tomorrow, but not today.

 

I’m surrounded

by friendly people

who seem so happy.

I pretend to be happy

and warm and comfortable, too.

I don’t know what else to do

when I’m with other people.

I’m all alone then…

And yet, I can’t talk about it

or explain why.

It’s like being trapped.

 

I fell like a withered left hand

hiding behind someone’s back.

I’m wearing a glove

to hide myself

I need my glove,

but I hate it

because it’s not really me.

 

Tomorrow, I’ll take it off

and exercise my hand…

tomorrow, but not today.

 

I’m so lonely sometimes

I could run away

and just disappear into the air.

But I want those people around me.

I want their love

and their joy in me.

Still they keep slipping past me,

slipping,

slipping away

and never really touching me.

They just see my mask

and slide slowly by.

 

Tomorrow, Lord, tomorrow,

I’ll remove my mask

and people will have to stop

and notice me…

tomorrow, when I’m older and stronger

I’ll remove my mask…

but not today,

please, not today…

because today I’m too alone

with so many people around me,

so many people

in this place called

a church.

 

from Interrobang 

by Norm Habel, pages 26-27