New poem

Early this morning, right after dawn
sitting in my home, reading a poem, looking at my dining room wall


The mask.
Look at the mask!

Which mask makes the most meaning today?

The tiny colorful bird mask from Guatemala
carved from a piece of throw away wood
by hands more grateful for work than cultural heritage

the long thin Kenyan face
intimidating and lovely at once
hiding a secret of centuries

Or

the sweet tiger mask
missing its right ear
(what did it hear it could no longer live with?)

the gaudy devil mask
smiling with knowing
designed to scare away evil and question daily sins

ceramic Mayan gods - wooden Aztec gods
scattered throughout the wall
overseers of all, pretending to be serene, yet so very intimate?

The mask.
Look at the mask!

Now, that I have written this, I can go back to reading
Lorca’s poem, “Dance of Death.”
My Spanish is in need of major healing.

MariJo Moore © March 24, 2011