Phase

I was born without a face (so I’m told)
and it is inappropriate to go outside without one.

So I have gone throughout life collecting masks
to cover the empty space between my ears.

Here is one I obtained years ago.

The mask of the student,
with a ponderous expression and unremarkable colors,
allows the wearer to learn without drawing attention.

Or how about this one?

The mask of the employee.
It’s a sturdy and reliable one. You see?
And reflected in the dutiful face are long hours of accomplished work.

Let me show you this,

the mask of the casual friend.
It’s covered in bright, pleasing colors and a smile, when it’s needed.
It generally lifts the heart, but often is not missed by many.

Then, there is this one,

the mask of the stranger.
Some might think it’s scary or perhaps a bit amusing,
but most don’t even give it a second glance.

This one is a little more familiar

and is the mask of the acquaintance.
Ironically, usually the biggest difference between this mask
and that of the stranger is the occasional obligatory greeting.

It is quite remarkable the number that I have
and my collection of masks only grows as time goes on.

The mask of the tenant,
which can only be rented and never owned.

The mask of the leader,
which is meant to inspire, but can also be cruel.

The mask of the follower,
which blends in easily with the masses.

The mask of the entertainer,
whose presence quickly fades away from memory.

The mask of the customer,
which some view as rather burdensome.

The mask of the man,
which is becoming increasingly less popular.

The mask of the needy,
which no one wants to see.

Some are made of steel,
others, of wood, cloth, silk, or glass

Each has its own design and color
And I have them all.

Some, I adore.
Others, I abhor.

Each has a special purpose
and I have used them all.

But every now and then I ask:
Are they really me?

No.

And yes.

Because each time I use one,
it leaves a piece of me behind.

Forever lost.

But not to me.