Honesty is the Cruelest Gift of All

(“The Heart of It #2”, 2007, original oil) Honesty is the Cruelest Gift of All I’m down to the nub of a pencil I’ve been carrying around in my heart For over three decades And as much as I’ve cherished this relic I feel it’s finally time to let it go. Over the years every once in a while I’ve tried to scribble out the lines That could possibly connect the dots Of a life that increasingly could fill a Russian novel. Of course I’m always the hero of my tales At least in the way it unfolds deep within my heart, But my head knows better. It’s not hard after all to see the life-lines Between the real dots of our experience, All the people and places we have known At the affect of what we do. These moments, holding both The gains and losses, comings and goings Are nothing more than mere dots Until connected in time. In my heart’s version the gains are fortuitous Group efforts of affinity between soulmates, And the losses inexplicable Random mistakes perhaps Clearly regretted by all. But my head knows a different truth That every story has at least two sides One man’s loss being another’s gain After all. And if I am honest I can accept That all my life’s changes Have always had me as the constant And so ultimately no one else to blame. Being set free of the ties that bind Is perhaps the greatest gift that love gives And yet clearly the simple honesty of that Is the cruelest gift of all. (11/5/24)