Pines, grasses, mosses and lichen
dark to lightest green. Photosynthesis, psilocybin,
mushrooms, toadstools, fairy rings
flights of fancy, lost my mind, scared of everything.
Head on a silver platter, incoherent rage
here despair, anger, fear and nothing to assuage.
A lullaby, a sticky bun, a hope, a prayer, a poem
words and words and words of silly, futile hokum.
Every face I look into as people pass me by
I wonder what hateful thoughts hide behind their eyes.
Mask on mask on mask people wear so many
I long for days when there’s no masks, not any.
A bit of what led me to this poem.
I don’t mean the social niceties that make for a civil community. What led me to this poem was a post by Khara House and her experience with racism since Trump’s election. I was reminded of a ‘Twilight Zone’ episode where the heirs were called together by their dying father/grandfather and made to wear a mask until midnight in order to receive their inheritance. They were ugly masks but they each did it. When they took the mask off their faces reflected the mask’s character-greed, selfishness, arrogance, etc. It would be a shock to see the mask drop off to reveal the true heart of a person but at least you’d know what you were dealing with to avoid that person or hopefully to see yourself with clear eyes and change.