My Mask

The newborn knows only comfort and pain. Needing mother for food and support, much later to learn love of family. The newborn wears an honest though desperate mask. As we grow older, we change our faces for acceptance and love, to show someone else another side. Later yet, we learn to let others see a face that is not us, but us for them. What could the world be like, if our masks were more newborn, with only acceptance, without guile, without a forced lie or two? What would happen if each person in our life knew only the one mask, the one that was us? I bet each of us have that special friend, the one true, that knows only the one face, with all of the bruises we have earned along the way. I hope each of have one special friend. A friend that you are like a newborn with, needing support, in spite of the other masks you wear.