SECRETS
Treasures buried
And crosses carried.
They look the same
Until I see.
Beggars in a Lisbon street, teeming.
Some without legs, some muttering, some screaming.
I feign preoccupation,
Not looking, not thankful.
Snails strain to escape a boiling pot
In the restaurant window,
Stretching and squirming
Like the necks and heads of doomed inside-out giraffes.
Look further back
To my open bedroom window.
And a branch
Supporting a lingering death.
A nest-bound bird with a broken wing,
A nest-bound bird too broken to sing,
A bird made broken by me.
And I try to forget, try to forget.
My wing too is broken,
My screaming whispers unbroken.
Do you see it?
Do you hear it?
Scars buried soul deep.
Secrets we keep
From others
And ourselves.
I kept a secret to myself,
And a bigger secret from myself.
Who did Cain
Think he was kidding?
To appear unbroken,
The whole truth must never be spoken.
But in the silence of an empty house
God whispers the one, true, and unbearable question.
…
I am buried,
The beginning ended.
Silent but not alone.
The broken bird is with me.
