The Photograph

I hold in my right hand a photograph, a little green eyed boy stares back. Yet this picture is deceiving, for behind his smile and laughter, the sparkle of life in his eyes, there was pain, shame, loneliness. The mask he wore fooled everyone. No one saw his pain, they only saw his smile.

I hold in my left hand another photograph, a young man looks back at me. The little green eyed boy has grown up. A young man looks back at me. The little green eyed boy has grown up. He forgave, he healed, he took off the mask. How do I know this, you ask? I'm that little green eyed boy and young man in the photographs I hold in my hands.