Truth

truth {noun}

it’s a flighty bird
a metal cage
but it has no shape,
only a weight.
and like a burn
a lie
at first
doesn’t hurt
but continues to boil.
Truth, then
a salted sea breeze,
drops gathered on trees,
a cool washcloth changed by tender hands.
Truth, too
would have you
give
to a feeling.
more akin
to an instinct…
even if it would mean,
suddenly a simple story
sleepily unfolding
and marching on
where was once a blank page
to be slowly filled,
and hopeful.
why then?

what then,
the weight of Truth?
it makes you full, sets you free,
makes you slave,
to yourself