I NEED A NEW TRUTH
I need a new truth
I can open like a door
and let the old one walk out into the world
with all her heavy feelings
like wounded swans in the rain
she feathered like arrows
to make her point lethal.
Time doesn’t heal much
and you can plant a crutch
but it still doesn’t sprout leaves.
The old truths just don’t go on bleeding.
They keep cutting deeper than meaning
into the life of a man
still awake at four in the morning
trying hard not to understand
why he doesn’t call out for help
when he drowns in the windows.
There’s an art to being a human
you must be alone to live,
and a dangerous passion for insight
that will open the eyes of the rain
like petals of shedding moonlight
on the empty grave of the brain
that disinters us like unrequited pain
to seek out why we breathe and grow
like assassins suckled on our own shadows.
There are secrets to life
that it is ignorance to know
and only the great fools of the spirit
can comprehend without putting an end
to the profundity of their antics.
The rest is a fiction of semantics
unfolding like the world
in the wake of a word
darker than love
when it’s time to say good-bye.
The doors don’t open by themselves
and the windows won’t cry unless I do
and it may be years before you realize
the jewels of enlightenment
you want to bathe in
to wash the world off your skin
will be drawn like tears from your own eyes
when things like people and candles come to an end.
I will miss you, my friend.
I will mourn you at the crossroads
of every new beginning
like a road I once took
and will not take again
and your absence will undo me
like an absolute of space
and there are things I will say to the moon
when I am shaking with terror and grace
that I could not say to your face
when it rose over the hills
like the unintelligible headstone
of someone who refused to confess
that she was buried under it.
I will wander the house as I do tonight
and try to suggest new shadows to the light
that don’t clash like white against white
in the dark blazing that burns me out
like stars in the marquee of a constellation
no one can see
who looks for me
with any eyes other than these
that have learned to shine on their own.
And I will remember how you once said of my life
that I didn’t deserve it,
and all I could answer back was
that you don’t need to believe life is good
to want to preserve it.