To Beat The Birds
I wore a face that was not my face
The muscles tensed and gripped
In ways they were not designed for
Long hours of frowning in front of a computer
Too many times smiling when nothing was funny
Or the worst, curling the lips at the corners
To sign approval of an act I found despicable
These muscles were meant to express
Love
Hunger
Rage
Kindness
Hilarity
Grief
Wonder
Wonder
The molds my face understands
And for far too long this face has slipped
Between the deep grooves of Being
And skated along the shallows of conformity
No more
For I no longer recognize the rudimentary lines
And weak boundaries I have been asked to force my face into
It takes too much energy to be nothing, to be subservient,
to follow the program
For I am too strong to hold myself down
I give my face permission to act as it will, say what it
wants
Take the forms it finds comfortable
And laugh to beat the birds
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