- Reading Faces -

By John Herlihy

Many people cannot read faces,

But I count myself among those who do.

Masks traced from foreign places,

Places never known to me, but still I knew.

We wear the face we think may most appeal,

A face whose truth is hidden, unreal.

In this sense, I consider myself no different,

I don’t give myself away, freely spent.

We think we are safe with the face at rest,

Expressionless it stands, with nothing to spare.

We can hardly image we are put to the test,

To read the blankness with a penetrating stare.

And what do I see in the tracings of the lines,

The little wrinkles that we have earned.

The hate, envy and sorrow amid whispering pines,

All the things we should have spurned.

I see great unhappiness in the drawn mouth,

Timidity and fear in the unfocused eye.

I see false unhappiness in the calculated pout,

Misery can shine thru, heard as a sigh.

The exaggerated smile can be as false front,

The crooked teeth bear the brunt.

The arched eyebrow may convey envy or concerns,

The vacant eyes hold light that yearns.

Seldom what you actually see is what you get,

The placid face could end in regret.

Beware especially to see the hint of a false frown,

Pity and sympathy can let you down.

The next time you meet someone, take a good look,

There within the flesh a subtle hook.

No one can claim ability to look deep into the heart,

But the gift of reading faces is a good start.

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(c) John Herlihy December 2018