Sea of Painted Faces

Sailing on a sea of painted faces,

Bailing water from my barely floating vessel, paddling desperately,

Hoping my boat is more than the paper mache of which my own mask is fashioned.

If my mask gets wet, everyone will see

I’m not the real me.

If I stop bailing, I’ll sink.

I sail past harbor after harbor,

none of them are safe --

not a single one.

Their voices mock and chide, like off-key chimes in the wind,

The wind that whips against my mask, reinforcing the urge to hide my eyes.

Some of the painted faces smile amusingly, like jesters or clowns,

others wear teardrops, or even a scowl.

Some scream like masks on Halloween,

others sparkle, Look at me! See me! Be pleased with me! Love me!

All are masks, just the same. Hide the pain

or show off the pain to hide the shame.

Maybe they’ll only notice what I willingly display.

In this way we are all the same --

Me, and the other painted faces.

What will you see when you look at me?

Will my smile fool you, make you believe

that I’m cleverly winning at this game,

and hey -- not merely winning but enjoying every move?

I’m careless in my urgency.

I splash my friend’s face.

Panic

Her mask melts away, and what do I see but light?

She pierces the night like a lonely candle in a dark empty room.

She leads like the lantern on the night fisherman’s skiff.

Like Polaris, a guiding luminescence for sailors like us.

In her utterly genuine bare naked masklessness I see True North.

I want to be like her,

So I remove my mask and let the salt sea wash over my cheeks, eyelids, mouth, neck,

freckles, scars, stains, blemishes…

The painted faces stare at us,

Glowing on the water like twin lighthouses,

showing the way to safe harbor,

and in that moment most exposed, most unguarded, uncovered,

becoming safe harbor.

Becoming safe.

One by one, another mask melts into the salt sea, and another,

and ever brighter the light shines.