The Secret

The Secret


In an abstracted tone
I will speak a secret
my nerves are sure of it
they are rooted in a place of surprise and anger
I frown to conceal my thoughts
laugh to hide my deepest hurt
in the midst of geysers
the words are as sharp as etch-work
dull as beaten dirt
a ragged wail carried along by the wind
yet I smother
taste the blood spurting from a bitten tongue
the acrid sweat that smells of gall
if I have truly been made to go through this
that alone would break my heart
burn love’s life to ash
turn my eyes the color of suffering
while enduring hands cover my face
the secret slips from me with
the subtlety of a soft breeze
barely audible
a rift beyond the dark side of the moon
beyond the symptoms of dying
I have turned my back on grief