What is this word, betrayals?
How did it come to be?
Is it simply something less
Than you expected?
Did your hopes and your desires
Fall short of your aspires?
Perhaps others failed their duty
To protect you?
Did the trust you put in
Someone fail you?
Have you suffered grave
Abuse?
Did someone close
Back-stab you?
Was your loyalty
Unrequited?
Was contract breached or
Just misunderstanding?
Did a lover’s indiscretion
Distress you to the core?
Does your object of affection
Now love you less or more?
Did secrets kept
Destroy you? Or
Surprise with
Joy and excitation?
Was concealment
Worse than truth?
What cost to hide
Even from yourself?
Speak your truth, but speak with care
The truth can set you free!
But there is
No guarantee!
"Three things cannot long stay hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth."
Gautama Siddhartha, the Buddha
There’s a war reporter in my ear.
There’s rain in my potatoes.
There’s tomatoes turning to running in my skillet.
There’s a life’s love fitfully sleeping away the Tuesday... in the next room.
There’s coffee on my tongue. And delighting my brain.
There’s dishes in the drying stage... in the morning light.
There’s a thought of Siddhartha,
who came to become the one who had no more becoming before him,
only after stepping outside of the walls, outside of the rules, outside of expectations.
There a thought of Siddhartha Gautama,
who came to see the broken, the bleeding, the aging, the hungry.
There’s a war reporter in my ear,
insisting on putting before us
what we so easily, what we so regularly, what we so willfully
put
out of sight,
out of earshot,
out of the grand and limited sweep of our attention.
Isn’t this reporter trying to awaken us all?
Isn’t this reporter trying to Awaken another?
Any other?
You?
Me?
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