Beneath the Skin
by Michael Doyle

There just beneath my skin
As simple as you please
Is the real me that begins
With the will not to appease

But to be just who I am inside
Behind my appearance, I hide
Disguised by the roles I play
Is the real me that stays

In all the tales that I've told
About the blues felt on the road
A thousand voices speak at me
Telling me all there could be

If only I would play the star
They feel my heart on this guitar
The notes that fall out as I play
All the little things I dare to say

Life is too often defined
Not by the individuals refined
But by our demanded roles
Never mind the depth of our souls

Husband, wife, son, and daughter
Holy mothers and rascals for fathers
It turns out that relational ties
Are too often the worst of our lies

In all the tales that I've told
About the blues felt on the road
A thousand voices speak at me
Telling me all there could be

If only I would play the star
They feel my heart on this guitar
The notes that fall out as I play
All the little things I dare to say

Even at this dreaded sense of distance
I hold on to my shattered insistence
That real intimacy is somehow possible
It's something I want to be capable

Real, rote, or false, we live for relationship
It's the idol that we live and worship
Ruminating on the muse of the infighting
Found in the words that others are writing

It's the radical love felt by our preference
As leap frog forward in our experience
Looking for something for our songs to say
To make ourselves deeper than the games we play

If only I would play the star
They feel my heart on this guitar
The notes that fall out as I play
All the little things I dare to say

Even at this dreaded sense of distance
I hold on to my shattered insistence
That real intimacy is somehow possible
It's something I want to be capable

(c) April 12, 2025   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved