~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?