M-a-s-q-u-e.

Me.

Mask. Me.

Ask me, see me; look within…
Past my mask,
Past my scars,
Past my fears,
Past my charms,
Past my ugly weakness,
Down to the soul and
The soil of my sin.

Yes, I hide here but I will also
Reveal the real, in me.
Behind this shield,
I stay closed
But the door of my
Face tells more,
For those who can see.

Clearly, I am a clown.
That is plainly shown.
But beware:
I am also a bringer of truth --
My truth -- and my beliefs
Are born from deep in the bone.
I stand in defense of my voice
Like a soldier behind the wire.
I bring my armor for the war:
My heart, my hope,
my humanity,
my burning inner fire!

I bring a desperate spirit of courage
And uncompromising desire.
With this act, I will change the way things are!

Though I wear a disguise,
I will enter the theater and
Take my place
On stage.

I will perform my story --
The tale of a tragic martyr -- and
Give expression to my rage.

I will wear the mask,
Secure the armor,
And raise the shield.
I offer to the world the
Chain-mail of my flesh,
My tarnished soul,
My battered bones and
Bronzed heart, concealed.

From this stage,
I will show my scars,
I will engage the enemy.
I will **** my fear.

My mask tells so much,
For those who can hear.

The season’s haughty train
Trails behind, decadent,
Pretending.
Unrelenting trials
Have gone by and
Are now most mercifully
Ending.
The jaundiced jewel fixed
At noon's height had
Shown its light too glaring,
Its blinding core
Creating warmth too wearing.
That languorous season,
An oppressive array,
Which over-weights our shape;
We were low and bowing but
With no trace of fealty, no
Chance of escape.

Long
Have these searing hours
Draped us in a sweaty quilt.
Time like a heavy cloak,
Days like the burden of guilt.
Summer’s scorn spit out as
Stabbing taunts and a
Savage lash of indictment.
We were exposed to its unblinking,
Unforgiving regard,
Its cruel cast
Driving all to mad
Incitement.

Now, slowly…
How silently,
So kindly,
The atmosphere shifts,
Swirling the lightness
Of graceful leaves,
Blending into a lifting wave
With soft whispers of a new day.
The night clears to hear our
Secluded prayers, spoken in shade.
Sleep drifts ghostly,
Our drunken slumber, in
Chambers blackened.
But the sober morning
Welcomes us calmly,
Quietly, like a forgiving friend.

Suddenly, a gracious change brings
The soul’s cool rebirth!
The dome above us
Deepens its complexion, from
Raging red to azure mirth;
The choking white smoke,
A miasma of grim gas,
Melts away and
Yields to cheering
Hearth fires!
Sparks stirring ambient hopes
Of familial bonds.
Familiar sensations fill
The empty places with
The forgotten mists of home!

A fleeting presence draws near,
Extending an invitation to a peace
That is eternal, and
Offered forever freely:
Dreams and revelations awaken --
Recalled as a mother’s love,
Or a child’s laughter, pealing!  
This refreshing phase brings
Enchantment in thoughts of home;
The source of all our growing,
With often vexed comings and goings.
A place I left so long ago,
So far out of the
Reach of my heart, still roaming.

Sage, solemn autumn,
That itinerant interval,
Arrives
As a pilgrim, bearing simple treasures;
Tokens to trade from our past
We feared were sure sorely lost –
Nevermore to be embraced.

With this goodly turn of fate,
Many precious things
Are gladly recovered,
Given with warm hands, lifted
Up in a seasonal thanks.
With autumn spirits
Wafting up,
Swirling around our hearts,
Eternal,
To the chilled, open sky.

She stands
In an empty field, facing east,
Her solitary shadow growing long.

Around her is this peaceful place, silent;
Only wind against her face,
Drifting across The plains.

Then a chill brushes past her cheek…

She feels
This presence in her spine and
She stiffens.  

It is just a current of the season,
Mingled with the late sun on her shoulder;
But the warmth and the cold sometimes conflict.  

…..The chill reminds her of his absence….  

This place is quiet, only a whisper.  

She hears
The pulse of her blood quicken,
Its course inside her thickens.  

The atmosphere shifts,
Eyes widen, as she faces the horizon.  
She is set like flint before a restless world.

Her wide blue eyes water, her heart
Pounding in strained desire.  

This steady, steeled daughter of America
Longs to cast a strong line of her love,
To the rock of her life,

Across the storming sea, so far away…
To that place of horrified warriors:
Shrieking shrapnel shreds obliterated oblivion.
The air trembles as the shock wave rips the ether,
Violently rent asunder.  
Littered remains rotting in the midst of the fury;
Good men reduced to the ragged riot of raw fear.
Gaunt, ravenous Death commands the field of battle as the machines of War rumble on, so far away….

She struggles
To join her failing courage with his
Torch-tested bravery – and to go the
Distance.  

If she could pull him out of that turbulent tide, cast him her line.
To rescue him from the gaping grasp of Danger.  
To see him home from his struggle, soothing his scars,
Calming the calamity in his ears and to steady his heart.

To make them whole again,
Together in this peaceful place.

But now the gears of history are churning
More human fodder between its wheels,
Withering wreckage in its wake.  
So many lost in that foreign land, all
Split apart at the atoms.

All fallen Adams.  Paradise lost…  
And yet, still (and silently) found, for these
Fallen defenders. As they depart,
Leaving this lost and hopeless place…

Drifting towards a distant field of
Sun-kissed wheat, now fields of lush
Green harmony in bird song,
Bees buzzing, and mild breezes.
Fertile plains stretching and
Flowing hills rolling into the azure distance
Of never ending creation,
All mingled in light,
unspoiled by the conflict of the world
Left behind.  

For there is no conflict, now,
In these currents of the season –
Between the warmth and the cold...
Brushing past her tear-dappled cheek.

The animal spirit she possesses,
An agile anima stalking a dark spark within,
Looms as predator and protector.
This hunter-rogue guide
Glides through her Soulscape,
Revealed as moon illumined mountain forest,
A place of winter-refracted
Ethereality and lurking danger.
In this dusky, deceptive ambiance,
She has access to a primordial instinct –
Archetypal symbols, ancient signs –
At once savage and wise.
Finding herself in this
Wilderness of vulnerability,
She girds for battle.
Staring squarely into the dark,
Duplicitous and cruel face
Of her adversary, she prepares.
She finds the strength to see
What are lies and
What are the truths --
Both are found there
In that pitched, lacerated visage.

Like all warriors across
Time immemorial,
She embraces her pain,
Exercising control over it.
Absorbing the jagged,
Razor’d contours,
She sees
In its elements
The space where the
“Other” ends
And where she begins;
How she was made
A flint against which
He sharpened his cutlass
And where she
Has made of herself
The door through which he entered.

From this core radiance
Comes a rapier will to survive,
The strength to guard her kin,
The keen intelligence
To unleash her primal howl,
And the blood-fire to rule her demons.

If you seek her truth,
beneath all her complexity,
look into her eyes,
to her splendid Self within.
Look with honesty,
to know her for who she is --
but go lightly to her dark spaces;
you may enter only
with humility and tender
trepidation.
For, she keeps precious
a pearl of great worth!
Her pearl is as an ivory column
in the court of Heaven, but also
as fragile as a bird's egg.
So, with care, if you please:
gaze upon her as a translucent
jewel, refined and glittering
like the star-draped canopy of
the desert night.
Handle her heart so
as to set her free,
to lift it up to flight,
where her wings stretch
towards the limitless sky!
Seek her truth, embrace her soul,
treasure her jewels, and guard her
pearl.
These truly are riches beyond
price and the highest calling
of a Prince!

Our history,
flash in recall,
almost chimera like,
must be slowed,
must be captured,
frozen.
Words, my dear...
your words;
my memory of your mouth,
your wet eyes and
your hot words
must be written down.
I will never forget, as long as I live,
our history.
Our book is the heart...
consumed in fire
and shared.
We will turn
into light,
into ash,
then to air.

The schism obscures
The sound of your voice
And our song.
Epochs of existence
Extend out and back
To a time
Before the fall.

But no vast expanse
Of distance can
Dim the light of your memory;
A sweet, shining tribute
To how we laughed and played!
Vivid images of your smile,
Your dance, your sweat, and
Your joy flicker within!

Still, an ocean of earth lies
Between this
And then and
That and when
I was with you,
In the same close space;
Us together,
Ecstatic!
Friends.

Those days of youth have
Never left my mind;
They purify my soul like a
Sacrament.
Your touch as an angel,
Once lost in my past,
But now found,
As if by accident.

You and your painful past –
You and your renewed future,
Slightly unsure of who I am…  
Let me remind you!  

Let me show you our history
In pictures of words --
And the silence between
That speaks louder --
Where you will find
My heart, wet
With the tears of my
Bitter years.    

Let me tell you again
Who I am,
Who you were,
And why we said goodbye.
But I don’t really know why, then.  
I saw you there,
As if by accident,
And I don’t know why,
Now.  

But somehow
We still understand
And believe in that
Time and that place.

Yet there is sad separation
That drowns our embrace,
Pulled apart by currents
Of life
And time,
And the distance between,
Dimming the sound of our voice…

But not our song!  
  
Still we sing,
Still we dance,
Still we play,
And still I see
Your bright smile,
In this same close space,
Within.  

I'll never leave this,
Our close space,
Where we are together,

Always friends.