I had intended to make this playful and fun, but a heaviness overtook me as I began to reflect. Perhaps I’ll try the silly side of this another day.
That lying line,
that lion,
that roars and rumbles rudely.
Color inside it or outside,
where shall we draw it?
When does the sweet secret
turn sourly to self-deception,
the slow slide of truth
across that watery line to lie?
This, says the heart, is mine,
this private line,
this inner realm I rule.
It is my right.
Indeed. And yet,
integrity bleeds outward
from secret worlds,
the safest closets
and deep-down caves.
When does my secret cease
to protect us in its quiet case?
When does it enter that twisted space,
the reflection that belies reality?
Oh, give the heart its privacy
within indigo shadows,
but don’t mistake reflection
for the truth.
Prompt
Tomorrow’s poem, courtesy of my friend Brad Lehman, is to write a poem of phone prompts. (I think he originally suggested that I translate them into or out of Spanish. Um. No.) Something about the experience (frustration?) of finding your way through phone recordings. Join me? Press one for the poem of the day. Beep.
Gratitude List:
1. Getting the white shower curtain white again
2. Cantaloupe smoothies
3. Folk tales
4. Hands to hold in the darkness
5. Beeswax crayons
May we walk in beauty.
This is not a new poem, but since I did not have time to write one this morning, I thought I would share it since it seems so appropriate for your prompt.
Blessings.
Voice Mail
My tongue is growing back
after a slow shedding
of what I didn’t say.
Today I wrote three lines
for my voice and sent
them in the mail. Left
the words recorded for you
to hear. This part does
not last. My tongue has
shed its taste too many
times to even dream
of what it might not do.
LikeLike
I love this poem so much!
LikeLike
Love the last two lines…
LikeLike