A Mask Poem by Edmond Sheehy

The shaman shows the pain we dare not face.
He sucks poison from those raw wounds we hide
and roots out demons from their resting place.
He brings to light deeds otherwise denied.
The showman shames us into facing pain,
as he slips beneath the smiling rictus
into which we twist too shy to complain.
He speaks aloud what we never express.
Who tries on pain absorbs its slow poison.
To stand for us, to dare under heaven
to take on our struggles and confusion,
to strip apart the memes from which we're spun,
an actor risks his psyche every day
with no more shield than a coarse mask of clay.