I am Not
by Casey Jepson
© 1998

The highway brings not a ripple of sound
The flowers blossom in the grass
Behind a barbed-wire fence
But I see not the light in your eyes
Nor feel the cool breeze or the wet rain
The ponies, the swans
They are but insects to me
Black as day
Grazing shyly in the muzzled ground.
Never again will a lion's mane caress my skin
Nor will the willows bow to my ill-gotten presence
I see but delicate tufts of twilight
Darken tensely about my wrists.
I am not there.
The sun heats not my soul
Nor do the stars illuminate my past
Never having been incarnated
Wandering the farthest deepest
With no question to ask
For I am not here.


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