Most people who know me have only glimpsed at one of many masks. That is not to say the faces they see are not real, that they are an act of illusion. The truth is more complicated than that and cannot be summarized by a simple metaphor. I am broken and wear the masks to cover the missing pieces., each mask revealing and concealing but a portion of the whole of who I am.
This week I was reminded that there are still holes that leak when I am overwhelmed and threaten to shatter the vessel of my life. I was so busy looking for hands to hold the pieces together, I forgot who it was that had first reassembled the shattered piece of my soul. Me.
It was not easy and I was reminded that it is a process yet unfinished, but I gathered the shards unto myself and it was my hands that held them in safekeeping. Now I know a few people who would probably take exception to this statement and would remind me that my hands may have held the shape but it was them that served as the glue the allowed me a few moment of respite. I have not forgotten and this is not to say that those who have been there for me mean nothing, quite the opposite in fact. But, it is time for me to hold myself together for a while. It is time for my hands to relearn the shape of my life and perhaps to redirect it. I am thankful for the support, but it is time for me to stop covering the holes in my life and to simply remove them.
My vessel was broken and I tried to recapture its shape, perhaps it is time for a new form to emerge.
(I said that the truth can’t be reduced to simple metaphor, but I didn’t say I would try to do it anyway. I am a poet and metaphor is how I interpret the world….sue me.)
Peace.
Mercutio
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