~a poem by Bonnee Klein Gilligan
Your face is hidden by a book
a picture of the cover.
Which holds inside a group of thoughts
about a time, about a place
but not about the man himself.
Perhaps the surface… not the depth
the fullness, sense or feeling.
There are no words, which can describe
the tactile sense, inside the mind
inside the soul, inside the being.
Inside the fullness of the man
that’s who you are indeed.
A face describes itself with life
of all it’s seen and all it’s done.
It scribes upon it lines of age
sweet misery, sweet joy.
Every hair of snowy white
is honor that is earned in life.
Age is wisdom, color, flavor
experience itself to savor.
Wear it proudly, fly it high
this flag of story, let none deny.
A place in time, describes an age
a youth or man and now a sage.
All slots in time, placeholders only
filled up with life, sweet love or sorrow.
Experienced within a moment
for this is all we have… right now.
Life’s never over, until you claim it
be what you want, live it, name it.
It is our clay, modeled with desires
and shaped with every choice.
Choose life my friend, and live it well
with laugher filled and dancing joy.
Alive, awake and in sweet dreams
For life is what we make it.
Will you show your face to me?