Gloves

The following poem is a response to the artwork you see in the picture above, which is meant to represent poor mental health.

It was shown on display at the Unbroken Festival in London in 2018.

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I see you,

Reaching for something we can’t see

Under Mask and Gloves.

Gloves are Masks,

For our protection,

To hide behind.

Comfortable they may be

But cling; a new skin,

A comfortable thing we don’t take off.

Like a Mask they hide us,

And we love the above,

Not beneath.

It’s easy to drown,

Under sorrowful waves,

Of leather and cloth.

Take your Gloves off.

Take your Mask off.