The Face Beneath the Mask

The mask feels heavy this morning, stiff with the smile you wore while the lie was being told. You remember the exact second your heart knew the truth, even as your mouth kept moving, kept agreeing, kept performing the part of the one who believes.

That gap between what you knew and what you showed them is a kind of loneliness that sits right behind the eyes. But the light does not need your performance to see you.

It sees the flinch you hid. It sees the truth you swallowed to keep the peace.

There is a presence that knows you without the costume. You do not have to hold the smile up for the light to recognize its own.

The mask was for them; the face beneath it is for God. You are not the lie you had to tolerate; you are the truth that survived it.