Unmasking

Scared to be seen.

Scarred from being seen.

Painfully twisted,

beautifully whole.

A maze of mirrors,

reflections that whisper-

names I no longer recognize.

I have worn so many faces

they began to grow skin.

Each molded by survival,

painted with calm,

smoothed on command.

Protection.

Devotion to the Disguise.

Disappearance.

Cling to the dark for too long,

and you will mistake it for home.

Live only in the light,

and you will go blind.

The heart, unmasked,

does not perform.

It simply pulses.

Openness is not weakness,

giving does not mean losing,

survival is not living.

Love- when freed,

circles back as strength.

To unmask the heart

is not to beg for love,

but to become it.

Standing bare,

scarred and sacred-

endless and whole,

I meet her.

The first of her kind,

Earth herself-

Breathing through me,

Mother of Everything,

Boundless.

Not asking to be seen,

but seeing.

Not asking to be held,

but holding.

Unmasked.

Uncontained.

Alive.