Truth Doors

Truth Doors

The Doors of silence usher in the truth

Lies, no more seek entrance, fear our wrath,

Like frail flowers spread on nuptial bed

By morning withered, bride betrayed  

After stellar solitaire night, a priceless pendant 

Fallen from broken chain, abandoned, weeping

On the bridge of love’s leap to nightmare shame.

Contemplating truth in silence far too late

Haunting her mind, now lingering no longer

In happy grounds, but as sad malingerer,  

The grounds keeper’s memory shorter than 

Her little finger. 

Truth was silvery inaccessible like moon

Shivering over waters, ephemeral snow,

Its clarity unsustainable in slippery 

Oily lies, slithering smug before silence,

Glib black serpents of deep persuasion. 

Waiting the fall.

A jump across time, reach across space

Hand to hold, she would've regained her grace

But a lie that crept low, bestowed highest pedestal

On quickest sand, deft player handling her, like

Jaded jugglers, he threw cynical choices in the air

Forced decision in real time at his leisure

And sequenced her in virtual effect before cause.

Somehow it was all her fault,

Her lack of transparency. She had to love herself

To be loved, know herself to be known, and so on.

 

The cruelty of his brilliance never random 

But there was no method to her madness.

She, unaware, choking on dazzled grief

She, having lost, was actually saved

Tricksters don’t love, they make you 

Run their arbitrary maze.

 

Soul. A pendant oft muddied, whittled

Still retains its refractive index. Chiselled

And chipped you can glimpse original value

From certain lights, at angles.

She, an  anguished muted self, mutates,

Pain to bliss, wills walls of silence open doors

Of comforts, hushes bleeding heart, awakens

Soul, at last.

To lie upon the bedrock of right choice

Not pleasure’s soft bed of sweet lies

The choice true love ever makes

Treasures of love are lovelier than just sweet

poetry of a night...without soul. Without light. 

When the false poet sings, which he will later deny.

Upon cock's crow come morning sun. 

From her teetering abyss of love's despair and desperate resolve 

The balance is of veracity, it takes stock, 

Constant as sunrise, reassuring mother's love, 

Stands ground under her treacherous feet steadying,

Humming paens to Gaia’s endurance. Her daughter Sita 

Steadfast rectitude. And she, is strength infused.

A pink sun anoints the maid burnt in lust’s pyromania

To find her love is rosier than seared ashes. 

Her cheeks never looked so innocent since 

Morning's first resplendent blush.

Her soulful birdsong shamed no more. ..

For she had found a bridge to life

How it lies, deep inside ourselves

Truth fathering strength, constancy mothering

Tenacity, a will to survive and thrive

In our hearts candid courageous cores.

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© Amrita Valan 2014