The New Masks. Poem by Ogolla Enock

The lights are off. I coil around my table, opens
Lamentations or Job, my favorite books;
And without blinking, flip through pages
never allowing anyone to touch or talk to me.

They say I am a mystery; sanguine and strong
with a sense of self-piety that solves any problem
when in public but also serious when alone.
No, I'm not serious, I am sobbing.

Open your eyes, you myopic fellows,
I'm not sanguine, strong, or spiritual.
This attractive elegance, smiles, and piety
are not my life but my mask.

My problems are intense and my tears ever near;
only held back by a thin layer of surface tension
that breaks under the slightest disturbance.
This solitude isn't rest but a cell.

Hello! Is anyone out there
or am I caged here alone?
Hello! Is anyone out there
or am I caged here alone?