When I put on a mask

When I put on a mask,
I put on two masks. 
The invisible mask hides
(or attempts to)
the constant pain and fatigue and and and 
that has made up my life for - oh - half a lifetime now; 
helps others to cope 
with what I live with,
whilst I smile, smile. 
The pretty mask, 
- the home-made one with long-loved fabric - hides
(or attempts to)
something of the fear of stepping out
into the now-unknown; 
protects 
(or attempts to)
this fragile body from further assault.  
Yes.
Two masks. 
Two lives.


Sarah M is a freelance writer & editor.
 

More LIVE writing...

Cherry blossom

Some twine, some flowers, goat's cheese, ten thousand, and some pesto

Empty street with cafe tables

Individual change in times of social crisis: Fisher's Personal Transition Curve

Daisies in grass

What is this time for

Empty street with plants

Today and Tomorrow