unmasked

i wonder sometimes
what it would feel like
if at the midnight hour
i had to pack my life
in boxes i could find
and leave a land
i call home

would the ones knocking at my door
be mask adorned
or would they be unmasked
reeking of bovine refuse
sold to them as the nectar
that cures all
all except hate

would the one who knocks at my door
be a friend
who once shared a bench with me at school
or cut a chai in the college canteen
or a colleague
who just yesterday split a smoke

would i cower in fear
jump over
to the dark side
or hold on
somehow look into the eyes
glowering behind the mask
would i be able to handle
the unmasked face