Coming into True
No dissembling
in the land where
everything comes true;
comes home to roost,
comes clean.
Bring your shawl,
it can be chilly here
in the land of looking in the eyes,
in the time of
speaking slow and clear
with no evasion
or dithering
or play-acting.
If you’re good at pretending,
better go somewhere else.
No bushes to beat around
in the land where everything
comes into true.
A relief, really,
a release of burden.
In the land of true
you dive to gravity’s embrace,
where the plumb of your soul
lets you breathe, easy.
©Susa Silvermarie 2024
