By Josué Vargas
Sometimes it feels like, I’m but a channel,
not an actor in the play,
not a protagonist nor antagonist,
but more like a place,
a hallway, or a passage.
Yes, a living hallway, a witness collecting sights,
footprints, conversations, emotions.
Those who passed through me left a drop of their own
joy, their own sadness, and their own hopes and despairs.
I’m but a witness, a silent witness, unnoticed,
and they let their guard down in front of me,
not knowing that I’m a place,
yet I’m alive, sentient, and aware.
I always knew I don’t belong in anyone’s world,
but I failed to notice the reason is,
I belong to everyone’s world, as a silent place,
a witness of a million stories.
And a rather lonely story of my own.