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Truth

We never
Let things
Speak for themselves.
The awkward
Protuberances,
Jagged edges,
The clutter
At the foot
Of the bed,
A spider web
In the corner.

It reminds
Me about truth.
How we compare
Two things,
And say they agree
Or don’t.
How can this
Noisy breathing,
This hollow reed
Filled with the wind’s
Music,
Make a purchase
On all such things
In this World?

Where is the truth
In that?
And all the things
That people say
That make you cringe,
Or clap, or smile or laugh…

We can’t let
Anything alone---
Least of all
Ourselves.

© All Copyright 2001, John C. Lawton.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.