As children we learn to play, to make believe
To dream a thousand dreams
To pretend that we are different people
Or sometimes even another living thing
We put on masks to hide our faces
We play hide and seek in boxes and buildings
Building them higher and higher to block out the sun
When we are children, it’s done in fun
As we grow the masks of life begin to appear
We put on each and every different one
Its becomes a theater of life changing every day
A show for one and all to see, or do they?
In the masses of people all around me
Do they ever see me? Do they look right through me?
Is there anyone that can truly see me?
Can they see who I am, my heart, my soul?
If they see me will they be kind, will they be nice?
How shall we proceed? What mask shall I wear?
What box do we hide in?
We always try to put on the happy face
To feel brave enough to step away from the box
But there are days when the mask cannot be donned
All you want to do is hide from the world
To hide in the box found from within
Someday soon perhaps we will learn
That masks are not needed, let’s see the face we hide
The time has come to step away from the box
Silenced no longer, to be heard and to be seen.
About the Creator
Star Hawk
Writing has been a creative outlet for me over the past 30 years. I am a survivor of 40 years of domestic violence, I am now an advocate for those who haven't found their voice yet. The pen is mightier than sword, words are my shield.
Ramblings of an Old Woman
Ok so I had a powerful day, WOW!!!! Earth shattering POWERFUL!!!!!!! We are reading some strong books about culture and identity, how culture shapes our identity through race, religion, family, social class, just to name a few. We did this powerful image meditation where we were supposed to think of our culture, something that stood out for us that impacted our lives, the first thought that popped into my head was what culture? The only thing that shaped my identity was dodging the swings and living on the street when I ran away...Then I thought OMG!!!! This is a culture, of culture of lies, of abuse, of vicious dark secrets that everyone is so afraid to talk about. We are afraid to mention what everyone is so desperately trying to hide behind closed doors. We are a culture within a culture we are the human by-products of society butchering of the families, the human dominance over another human, whether it’s personal, racial, cultural, or spiritual. Abuse is a culture that has two faces; one that is presented to society, God forbid if anyone should ever see the real thing, then there is the one that is seen only by those being abused. This is culture most don’t want to face, for we all have been there at one point in our lives. But for those who have walked this path longer than most, we find it filled with pitfalls, shadows, and unspeakable anguish. We may deal with the pain and hide it well, but the scars run deep and even though we do get the help we need sometimes there is a trigger point that sets off a whole string of memories and when doing image meditation sometimes it can bridge that gap and becoming a healing process for a very painful time and place. This is what happened to me today, I debated on whether I wanted to share this, but I thought why not? I have shared my journey with all of you so far, why not continue, so here is my latest in poetry, it gives a rendition of my vision today. "The house is dark and quiet , high in a shadowy room , there is a child whimpering , softly as not to bother a soul. Why do you cry my child? She looks up with a start , her green eyes rimmed with tears , Shh she says, he will hear you . I stand looking at the child , a ghost from ages past , a small child, a little scared, a little pudgy, and a little sad. She sits curled up on the bed , which is kind of wet , she says, Shh he will hear you, he will be angry , hit, taunt, and make me wear my wet underwear, around my neck to school , where they will make fun of me. She quietly sniffs , my heart wants to reach out , to embrace this small wee child . Here let me help you , quickly change the bed , she scrambles to the edge , that’s when I notice , the different colors upon her skin. I could see the outline of a huge hand laid upon her thigh , my heart weeps at the sight of the pain upon her wee soul. I quickly strip the bed , changed her clothes too , hiding all the evidence I quietly tuck her back under the warm covers , I wipe away the tears , I still see upon her face . See now he will never know I said with a smile on my face , I gave her a hug , she returns one so fiercely , almost took my breath away. She whispered thank you , tomorrow I will be safe , walk with my head up and not looking upon the ground , there will be no new marks , to hide from the world. She gently kissed my cheek , whispering, it’s ok now , you can awake…. I found myself hugging not her but me, repeating over and over again , it’s all over now , You are safe.
By Star Hawk4 years ago in Motivation
The Duelist
The rays of a dying red sun flashed against the onrushing blade. The grey beards say the key to dueling lies in size, speed, reach, righteous fury, whatever the person in front of them pays them to say. Matteo knew better than any it was none of these and had an undefeated record on these sands to prove it.
By Matthew J. Fromm4 days ago in Fiction
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