No Lie

 

Day Sixteen

A truth is not nailed down

Pick one up and run with it

Turn it over in your hand

Like sea glass. Hold up

The prism of it; see, they are

Never a lonely hue. Seldom unitary.

Truths are neither liquid, gas nor solid.

They are not that which can be told

In press conferences or boardrooms.

They are, perhaps, liminal spaces

And not a spot to linger.

Truths disappear, sometimes,

When you flick on the fullbeams.

Not convenient or durable

Not painless (truth hurts) but

Vanishingly hazardous to health.

If you hold a rare mineral truth

You'll see; It's not for secreting away

And it's not an exhibition.

A truth is never what you think,

Especially to the unfamiliar other.

No barred window,

Nor a despot, entrenched,

And a truth is all of these things

And none of them.