It's still dark outside my windows. A darkness that allows just a little bit of blue to mingle with the black and grey. My mind lingers on the skeleton trees that stare back at me, and the photo that a friend took of such.
Why is it that we fear darkness?
Why is it words like skeleton and bare- send shivers up the spine?
There is a poem that haunts me, much like these trees and those words. This poem won't let me go. I'm not sure what it is that has me captivated.
So I lean in. Close. I wait for answers.
This poem,
This poem, to me is about the real. The raw. The self expression that isn't candy coated. It's a poem about masks and them falling, breaking into a million pieces.
Today. My masks lay all around my legs. The ones that I put on for different people and different environments. She tells me, that fear has "to be faced {named} if we are to overcome it …" and so I think about her words, I think about the skeleton trees and the masks.
I give my fears a name. Approval.
I watch as the masks break into pieces. And I bravely stare at MY FACE in the mirror.
That's my most powerful mask as well. Approval. It's a hard one to break for good...
ReplyDeleteOh, this is beautiful. I am so inspired by your courage and honesty. Thank you!
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