Journey to Ixtlan

I saw a Tumblr photo of a young lady dressed in an “ethnic” outfit. The caption on the photo said “this is not my costume”. This got me thinking about the costumes that we wear everyday. There are times when we cut loose, “dress up”, step-out, and perhaps at these times we are the least disguised. The poem “Costume” explores this thought.


Costume

When I dance by spirit or step I shed the costume of everyday.
The garbs I take are extreme, revealing the self I dream.
You'll not find me in this state, the world is not ready for that face.
Still I long to be myself, more than the everyday.

Outside the dance I am sedate, acting as a sheep for the flock.
Head kept down in response to the scrutiny of the boss.
Camouflage is my way, the true costume on full display.
So proper in the public eye, the herd rejoices as I comply.

The moment to hide passes by, the masque drops, it's the lie.
The extreme is my holy place, living life on the edge.
This outfit is not the norm, too little the pundits say.
The lace and frill exaggerate the sexiness I long to share.

No longer am I unrestrained, the costume has been replaced.
The disguise has been put aside, now I'm pure in God's eyes.
Some say I am in a fantastic place, seduced by the ecstatic state.
I won't disagree with these thoughts, it is where I long to be.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160311.