The Nightmare – People With No Faces


Our Faces

These mirrors we hide behind,


Reflecting back to you, and you, and you

all that you wish to see, to feel

through the reflection of your own mirror

And behind my mirror

I sit

with my quiet, screaming agony of truth –

Faces, carefully arranged to conceal

Like the beautiful floral arrangement that hides the truth of Aunt Bettie’s

red wine stain on the antique lace tablecloth.

Remember, it was that Thanksgiving Uncle Mort had the affair with the stock boy –

They are so very versatile – our faces.

We are safe behind them – we imagine.

Our fortress from the world

Our Mask

so we don’t have to show the truth – or to see it….

Or –

So we imagine.

But we know – deep – this is an illusion –

What a nightmare if all our faces were suddenly gone

and there was nothing left to see, to feel
but the Truth?

As surely as staring at the sun can blind

the brilliance of our Truth – to the uninitiated – may kill.

What then?

(Raiana Golden – 2011 – all rights reserved)


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