I often wait


I wonder what is behind the mask I wear,
so forcefully applied that I think it actually real,
hidden beneath my hidden visage
myself unable to comprehend,
fearful at times for the images received
fill my heart with a certain dread.

I know that I am duplicitous
even if not done in spite,
for my face looks in both directions
striving to go just one course;
the middle torn and bleeding
confused at my own insubstantial striving,
afraid of the in-between
that I seek to hide from grace.

In part I know,
the rest I seek to flee,
yet the deeper regions
reside within,
trapped in my own web of inner deceit.

So I often wait yet not in despair,
for I have learned to trust
in the something deeper going on
beyond my thought and striving,
bringing my life to fruition.