Masks

Your masks are many and obscure all that is within you from most.

Only those who have loved you for who you are, in both flesh and heart,

or sense the shape of your heart when you walk barefoot through the grass or sand can observe the segues from one mask to the next or fathom how you use them to color your gestures and intonations.  Very few must know this about you.

They never see your subtle movements or look deep enough into your eyes or listen close enough to be aware of a protective mask rising.

You effortlessly slip them on and off as your heart directs in moments of work, love and family.

I have seen you both with them and without them.  I have experienced the joy of them cast aside and the pain of you peering through them at me, one by one, in your soft and casual deflection.

I once gazed upon you, lying next to me, your eyes closed.  I was completely lost in your scent and perfect being.  You were happy, quiet and satisfied.

Your glow was the only light as dusk began its descent.

That moment has grown from one of peace and comfort to one of my few treasures.

~a gift from an old love, anonymous

Masks

Masks