it was easier for me to wear the mask

and carry on

then to collapse in pain—

so afraid of being hurt,

so afraid of being still.

One thought on “pride

  1. I haven’t commented here on your blog in ages, blog son, but you know I read, and love, everything you write. This poem stopped me short. Why? Because I usually think that you are putting into words, not only what I’m feeling, but what I didn’t even realize I’m feeling. But this beautiful poem is different.

    I wish I could wear a mask. I can’t and it leaves me exposed. Scary.

    Your new books “the man on the moon” and “the bee sides” are both incredible. I talk all the time and think I hit the nail on the head pretty often when I write. But I don’t have the words to explain how much your poetry moves me. Reading your poetry is a blessing. 💟

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