by Mike Sherry
inspired by Emily Kent’s demo-lesson
I know what it is to wear a mask
Or masks, for there is more
than one
My father’s explosive anger
My mother’s entrapping innocence
But mostly the ingratiating snake:
Love me or I lash out
Let me help you and hate you
For needing me
Like my ancestors, slave-catchers
Luring tired swimmers to
A false light.
But I have traced the wounds
Beneath those masks
To their core:
To a night when my mother’s paranoia
Had us crawling on the carpet
Avoiding windows
To that moment when I knew
If I would not be loved
I must be needed
And to the words my father gave me
In feedback on my writing
“Not much use”
But I have learned
That core wound can
Become sacred wound:
To transform
Rather than transmit
The pain
We all need others, we all need grace
To be loved without having to be
Useful
So I will choose to be
A lighthouse, standing
On my own dark rocks