I know a mask-maker
No really, I do
She crafts some to order
And ones she just wants to, too

She showed me one of her recent commissioned pieces
Of which she is duly proud
It’s a devilish red visage with raised sharp brow ridges
And it made me curse out loud

She showed me a skeksie from The Dark Crystal
Big weird bird beast, you know
And a brilliant satyr with a little beard thistle
Like Pan the old man-goat

I got to thinking, after show and tell was done
Thinking about the nature of masks
And how long I have been wearing one
What sort of a one you may ask?

The lie I’ve been wearing is a paradox, for
From behind it I spoke the truth
About subjects I otherwise fear to broach, or
I never would have taken up the ruse

But it seems to me I’ve had my say
From the safety of the charade
Yes, this seems the dawn of a new day
And I’ve doffed that mask by God

Turning it now, hollow as it is, to gaze upon fake face to real
I see that it’s ugly and beautiful, full of power and weak
When wait – what’s this odd sensation I’m starting to feel?
It’s the sun upon my cheek!

IGWRT Button rsz