From Behind This Mask

From behind this mask I am a survivor of my life’s situations.
If you looked into this face, you would see reflected in my eyes,
Untold pictures of people dying.
As a nurse, I have held so very many hands,
But sometimes I just want so much for someone to hold mine.

I know that there is a God, I believe in Him; however at times
I need to feel skin upon my skin, nails gripping deep in my flesh,
So that physical pain takes away
My attention from the suffering.
Unbearable visions then are viewed in context, partially obscured.

These occurrences often happen daily and I wear a mask of control,
Only briefly letting it slip to empathise with grieving; I shed tears,
Hopefully help, with a part of me
Giving them something to hold onto.
She didn’t suffer; the mask now of a liar; then I wear the mask of guilt.

Which face do I show to those I love? I am like a multi-faceted gem,
one plane sparkling as it catches the sun, another turns to darkness
As it revolves around infinite subjects,
Perpetually weaving, twisting, changing.
How I long to wear unlimited the mask of happiness that I deserve.

Often the womanly weeds of woe, that swamp me, are all encompassing.
Every mask reflects, through eyes that see through slits,
The world in all its diversity.
Then the face I face in the mirror;
The mask is stripped away, no hiding place remains; I have to look at me!