Underneath

Our skin can form a clay mask of our inner selves, hard to the touch and all encompassing.

An open soul will feel too much. Our bodies are 80% water, emotion can turn that water into wine or infect with a free flowing poison that shuts down vitality and blocks messages from brain to heart.

The coldest among us could be contaminated, trauma or negativity having numbed their essence, we see them from behind as they walk away.

An ache in the throat accompanying the whimsical musing of a child or the memory of a past loved one could reduce these masked bodies to dust, to survive withdrawal is paramount.

Clothes and makeup can bolster the self-defense; clever conversation can disguise personality but if you breathe you can be saved. The savior is perhaps God but likely the spirit that hibernates. Every being possesses that enduring sprit; tried and tested it may be submerged in wine but is rebuilding, learning and creating new individuality.

We are able to wash off the constant barrage of feelings from our masks, but clay will eventually start to soften, a warm breeze or a kind word from a stranger will unexpectedly penetrate and embrace. We are built to recover and should not be ashamed of that.

Trinity

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