The Mask and the Mirror

The Mask and the Mirror

I built my mask meticulously.
I built it to last.
I built my mask so it would hide
All the scars from my past.

Each day I’d wake at daybreak
And avoid the mirror’s gaze,
I’d slide my mask on swiftly
And begin one of my days.

I’d polish it and shine it,
Keeping my mask fresh and clean,
It looked just like I wanted
So I wanted to be seen.

Then one morning, catastrophe,
My mask began to slip.
Before I saw it coming
Its strong strap had lost its grip.

I glanced up at the mirror
At the image it portrayed.
I shuddered, clutching bits of mask.
My face made me afraid.

Surely if others saw me
They would gasp and cry and shout.
They’d say “who’s this imposter?”
And they’d surely cast me out.

But my mask was in disrepair
And so I shrugged and sighed,
Without my mask I faced that day.
I now look back with pride.

To my surprise, they saw me
And they didn’t miss a beat.
Instead, they seemed relieved
“That was a mask?!” they’d all repeat.

Some even took their own masks down
To share their faces too.
“You ought to see the real me,”
They would say, “Since I’ve seen you.”

And so I faced the mirror
Now intrigued at what I’d see.
To my surprise, its image
Looked much like the mask to me.

Its shape had left its markings
Such that my face followed suit.
Even with all the scars
I was still “me” without dispute.

It took some time to mend my mask,
It never was the same.
With tape and glue and gaps
It felt it was a losing game.

The strap was not so snug now
And last year it slipped once more,
It cracked right down the middle
But this time I wasn’t sore.

I picked it up and brought it home
I left it there a while.
I got to know the mirror once again
Now with a smile.

I came to like the image
Staring back at me each day.
My mask once meant perfection
But my face now looked okay.

It’s not the face I was born with
Nor that I crafted still,
This face is both and neither,
What I am and was and will.

I’ve since repaired the mask once more
And wear it as I need,
But some days in the morning
I prefer my face be freed.

So each of you now reading
Through your mask or your eyes bare,
May you too find peace in knowing
That the world won’t stop and stare.

When you too feel your mask heavy
And it falls, all that I ask
Is that you do not even worry.
We’re the mirror and the mask.

By Kanan R Wanha
Written 2024-05-12