As a Greek performer, I slip on a mask
for my friends, family,
parents, and authorities.
There’s the introvert friend, the deist cousin,
perfect daughter and presentable young lady.
I switch them out daily
Mask to mask. Persona to persona.
An introvert in papier-mâché, deist in cheap plastic
Perfectly fitting porcelain, presentable mahogany wood.
Fitting into the situation rather than
letting the situation fit around me.
No one told me I had to do this,
That I had to hide my face behind a façade.
It came from observing the performers around me
Friends, family, parents, authorities.
It started as a chore, that turned instinctual.
Introvert, deist, perfect, presentable
one after another, after another.
With each new introduction
a new mask is molded from metal, clay, or resin.
Soon I forget who I really am.
The years,
the masks.
Performing has worn down the real me,
making my real face disappear,
replaced by a pack of masks.
-
Author:
M.E.M. (
Offline) - Published: October 19th, 2021 08:29
- Comment from author about the poem: Model poem based on Ada Limón’s "The Carrying”. This poem and the poems that will follow are part of my first ever poetry collection. Created Created: September 17, 2021 | Edited: September 28, 2021 | Finalized: October 18, 2021. Comments are welcome!
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 12
Offline)
Comments1
If the world were a masquerade would we all not be guilty of having wore masks on more than one occasion in our lives times we have pretended to be someone we most certainly are not. This poem portrays the imperfections we hide and the beauty we offer up freely. Lovely write.
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