In a crowded room, he would disappear.

Blend in, to be one of the crowd.

No one would bother him. He would be safe.

In a crowded room. His colours would be luminous. Fluorescent.

So bright, everyone would know he was there.

No one would bother him. He would be safe.

In a flash mob dance off.

He would be in the middle. Busting the moves

No one would bother him. He would be safe.

In a gang. Hands in pockets.

Wearing the same. Swaggering along.

No one would bother him. He would be safe.

It must be exhausting.

To blend in, all the time.

So no one bothers you. So you are safe.

Slowly, sometimes very slowly.

The swagger is going.

The colours are less loud.

He can start to feel comfortable in his own skin.

Without fear, or rejection.

To be himself.

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12 thoughts on “Chameleon

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  1. This touches a chord. Just yesterday we were talking, with my husband, of our impression that our toddler (adopted) son was imitating language, other than really *speaking* it, to blend in. It’s a little heartbreaking that he has such an instinct for fitting in, is he trying to be safe with us? Is there something deeper than normal will of a child to take part to the family life? I don’t have answers… This poem made me think of that recent episode. Thank you for sharing ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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