We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes-
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
Yet underneath this painted skin,
A quieter truth begins to spin-
A candlelit, unspoken ache,
A child-heart trembling wide awake,
Still asking, “Will you stay?” within.
We meet ourselves in mirror-glass,
Where all the ghosts still come to pass;
We name the wound, we bless the bruise,
We sift the sorrow, let it loose,
And let the old lies fall like ash.
Forgive the echoes, soft and slow;
Unclasp the weight we used to know-
Release the grief we’ve held too tight,
Invite the dark to birth the light,
And let the truest current flow.
For masks can be a sacred thing,
A veil-bell’s hush, a warded ring-
A shield we raise when eyes are cruel,
A boundary drawn, a quiet rule,
To keep our holy spark from sting.
But healing comes when, safe at last,
We stop reliving what has passed;
We loosen every knotted seam,
We choose the self beneath the dream,
And set the fear down-gentle-fast.
So let them count our tears and sighs-
We’ve kissed the dark, and still we rise;
We’ve eaten seeds of grief and grown,
And made a throne from bone and stone,
Beneath the earth, beneath the lies.
Persephone, with shadowed crown,
Taught us how falling is not down-
It is descent, a holy art,
A way to mend a broken heart,
And turn the ache to fertile ground.
So when we lift the mask away,
We do not come as “saved” or “okay”-
We come as night made into bloom,
As spring that learned the shape of tomb,
As truth that doesn’t need the day.
***Inspired by “We Wear the Mask” by Paul Laurence Dunbar-continued into what happens when we heal behind it, and what becomes possible when we finally let ourselves be seen.
✍️ Jennifer Widerman
#poetry #newmoon