Masks
At the grocery store today --
these meteors and angels, wise men and all
the beautiful hallucinations of December, wearing
the masks of the Ordinary, the Annoyed, the Tired.
The Disturbed. The Sane
Only the recovering addict with his bucket and bell
has dared to come here without one.
He is Salvation.
His eyes have burned holes
in his radiance.
Instead of a mask, he has unbuttoned his face.
Laura Kasischke
***I have no idea why snowflakes are falling in that last photo that I took outside of my house. There was no snow, and I have no apps or gadgets. Maybe it's a Christmas miracle?
I am in love with every bit of this post. EVERY falling snowflake, word, and cloud.
ReplyDeleteIt seems miraculous to me, as is the poem. xo
ReplyDeleteI love this poem. It's hard to go out without a mask.
ReplyDeleteNow I get it - why I have always LOVED the Salvation Army bell ringers - GREAT poem
ReplyDeleteThat poem gave me the shivers. Los Angeles doesn't need snow to be a Christmas miracle. It already is one.
ReplyDeletei love that poem. i know those people.
ReplyDeleteI love these photos (snow and all!) And the last line of that poem, "Instead of a mask, he has unbuttoned his face."
ReplyDelete