The Burning of Masks-a poetic verse of dismantling and reclaiming
In hindsight, she can see herself lying on the ground, surrounded by long-winged angels and begging to be soaked with water from the clouds to dim her searing skin. She screamed in and writhed after being burned with fire from the pits, stripped from the identities she held dear. The wild heathen she named herself, the strong fierce daughter and the kind, beautiful soul that resided within were speared, gathered and taken during the long night of day by the ones who would never except her, this was the day where she bled into the earth and she finally saw the masks she showed the world weren’t of her own self. They were blended, painted and created in societies image, not her own. Clinging to those parts of herself was futile, so she lit it all on fire. Deconstructed her entire life and purged the restraints that were keeping her docile. Long needed and gracious space had finally been taken, she knew that fire was the ultimate space maker, so she burned it all down. Including the many skins she would slide in and out of day after day, but no more. No more will she play the part they had cast her, no more will she be their picture perfect girl, and no more will their words break through the homemade skin of uniqueness that is her, but she will wear it proudly upon her bones from now on. She will claim the wild women heathen she so lovingly embodies, she will claim the strong fierce, fiery daughter, and she will claim the beautiful daring soul that is her from now on.
The angels turned their hands to the luminous skies and called down sweet soothing, succulent rain. Bathed in holy water form hers truly, her charred, burned skin turned to a soft moon bathed glow and her eyes were a little brighter. As she drew herself up from the ground on to knee, she glanced at the angels around her, both light and dark stood, casting their beams like black and white shadows around her. Blessed by the holy water, witnessed by light and dark angels and forever changed, she now walked with a particular grace and ease she had not known in this life, and her body, her mind, her bones, her blood, and her soul was hers.
Love,
Austeen Freeman
