My shoes squeak, my
Location
My shoes squeak, my hair rustles, and my eyes wander. But I am neither heard, felt, nor seen.
Students with satisfied smiles and amused eyes scramble before me, hustling to their next class.
I keep walking forward. A straight line that makes no dent in the system.
They don’t hear me. They don’t feel me. They don’t see me.
I am invisible. I am hidden behind a clay mask embroidered with a cheeky, Cheshire smile.
This is what they hear. This is what they feel. And this is what they see.
Each day. Five days. Seven hours. This is what I am.
A small, malnourished soul hiding behind a heavy terra cotta mold.
It speaks for me. It acts for me. It sees for me.
Each night I hurl the mask to the wall, but it does not break. It only chips a little bit…tiny tid-bits that fall like dust to the floor.
I sulk alone, trying to piece my broken heart back together with scotch tape, and scotch.
I look to the sun and still I feel no warmth.
I follow the moon and still I have no guidance.
This mask is a two-way blockade.
While it hides me from the world, it hides the world from me.
If only I could crack this clay open, split it in two and watch it fall beneath my feet.
Then I could turn my gaze to the stars and truly feel their light.
Then I could race to where the ocean kisses the land and finally breathe.
I could smile my own Cheshire cat smile, knowing that there are no lies here.
I am truth and I thrive.
I am not a clay mask. I am flesh and blood.
I pulse with life and sunlight.
I lead with strength and moonlight.
And suddenly, my once hard, crusty, terra cotta mask turns is nothing but a flimsy prop. A cardboard knick-knack.
This is me, this is who I am!
I am not a clay mask. I am flesh and blood.
I pulse with life and sunlight.
I lead with strength and moonlight.