Gone, But Still There
Beard Poster by Michael Buchino of the Beard Revue.
just when I think I’m used to it being gone,
I feel my beard tingle and tickle,
happiness in a fuzzy guise.
But when I reach up to stroke it, it suddenly become clear:
my beard is gone.
I could regrow it,
let the wilderness reform on the wild mountains of my face,
but it would be a different beard,
one which hadn’t journeyed with me through a decade of my life.
My beard disappeared against my will,
as a matter of necessity
and a matter of importance.
despite the ethereal tickle of its stubbly antecedents,
I’ve come to realize
my beard is simply a ghost limb.