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As If (excerpt) Somewhere along a lifetime most are broken but we pretend we are not, taking up armor and masks as if so doing we could fool the rest, as if a state of brokenness was something to be ashamed of. Contorted behind a smiling and daily polished patina we bend ourselves into pretzels for fear a glimmer, warm and needing, might shine through and blow our cool. As if no one could read the details running tickertape across our foreheads. As if none could see our clumsy antics tripping over bloated and rotting unattended business. As if our single-minded hypocrisy caused no pain. As if we could hide from who we are, as if who we are was hiding. And still we are loved by those who see us better than we see ourselves love letting go of face forever and taking up the heart of us, however broken.
Copyright © 2001-2003 Kristen Spexarth |