(and not only you)
they may lie 
before you die

they may lie again 
your speechless
body is in earth's pouch
the close, dark hug of it...

your life given 
for a cause...
not yours.

Lies are the wounds
in all our histories
suppurating as tiny texts
in little known museums

or finding voice
in deep-digging authors.
Truth like pus, the

ooze of an aged infection
scarring the eyes
of your descendants

with yellow dis-ease.

10 thoughts on “Truth

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