Sunday, May 21, 2017


As a young father
each crisis that arose
threatened to expose me 
for the fraud I was

I marveled at the sureness
my own father had shown
and I never wondered
that he had any uncertainty

Then I saw my father old
weakened and dependent
and I wore the mask
of maturity

Inside was a dwarf child
whining and manipulating
crying blackly at the unfair
twisting good bad right wrong

While outside I showed nothing
no good bad right wrong
a steady voice, hand and eye
the lie multiplied again

The mask became a part of me
indeed it became me
and I became my mask
and asked that it be of me

Still now and then
the withered child
rose in rebellion
a thin mewling voice

Nagging at my soul
reminding me of reality
and all I had hidden
and hoped to leave behind

As I become
the weaker older man
I await a son
to rescue me

To don the mask
that life demands
and live within
and again

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