The Masks We Wear
red full moon, planets above.
Wordless murmuring, earthly reckoning,
boundaries breached, too-mortal love.
Stress sensations yield to nightmares;
terrors deep and visions shy
Waiting for someone to save us;
Waiting for someone to die.
Waiting for the morn to wake us,
daylight to bring a new clear sky.
© Christine Salkin Davis, 2020