Greek Chorus

Born into a world of strangers
Do they want YOU or a fantasy in their mind?
And if you're not the latter, which you're not
You try to make yourself into that
Because you know that's what they want
And they are shopworn and cynical and
Are themselves representing a falseness
That is institutionalized
Protected by cultural flotsam that accrues
To hide the Truth
And you try to understand
Thinking that everyone wants the best for you
And you are rewarded when
The false self begins to accrue and conceal
Or punished for your authenticity
Self-medication or idle distraction or both
Become what seem to be survival skills
That are killing you
Maybe you are four years old
Or maybe you are eight years old
Or maybe you are twelve years old
But there are moments of clarity
That are also hidden because
If seen they are attacked
THAT will not be permitted
So you will have to choose
What seems like a choice between
Yourself or your family
But you don't know that's the choice
You're too young to know
And so, like the white man in blackface
Who uses the mask to be authentic
But it isn't, but it is
And confused you try again
This authenticity or acceptance
No, THAT'S the choice
BUT you have no tools, no role model
To learn self-esteem, self-support
Self-nurturing, self-acceptance
So now you've split in two
The child, frozen in time, ignored, left behind
The child is the "Baby Jesus," the Buddha, your Chi
But then -- one fine day . . .
So this is the story
THE STORY
To be or not to be
Slings and arrows, indeed.