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Between ourselves
by Laura DoomThere are no secrets.
There are private horrors
compelling us to harbour
irrational hopes that promise
immunity from discovery.
Then there is 'exploding news'
subject to strategic release
following a period of insecurity
through the medium of the 'shared secret'.
This passage parses as placeholder
for inevitable omissions
due to deficits in attention.
[I've said it/you've heard it all before]
Finally there is the 'open secret'
a representation of common knowledge
transmitted to everyone but the person
to whom the information pertains.
An instant is a long time
in poetry; the culmination
of calcification, a war of attrition
between resolution and capitulation.
In an instance, I resolved
never to capitulate
before the forces
of unmitigated cynicism.
But there are no promises
only unregulated pseudo-hallucinogenic episodes
during the course of which assurances
purporting to represent intentions
relating to the foreseeable future
are pledged by unsuspecting victims
of the entropic complex we call 'life'.
What passes between ourselves
lacks only in confidence.
My secrets will die with me
never knowing what they are. 12/31/2013 Author's Note: 1st edit: 29/07/14
Posted on 12/31/2013
Copyright © 2024 Laura Doom
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Jim Benz on 01/01/14 at 12:26 AM This makes me want to write, but I think I've capitulated on that front. Good poem--wish I'd written it. Where've you been? |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/01/14 at 02:41 AM Those last two lines are brilliant. Different people's faces and voices pop out at me as I read through this series of revelations and I see myself hiding from stanza 2 in my usual corner. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 01/01/14 at 06:37 AM Brilliant capture of personal issue and gossip in the 'open secret,' and what damage it can do to a relationship, but a strong person such as yourself will not capitulate. And what don't kill ya makes ya stronger. All the best Laura for 2014! :) |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 01/01/14 at 01:50 PM and yet, Laura, I suspect that secrets are no different than we, their sworn retainers or as Joni Mitchell sings, in her great album, Hejira, we all come and go unknown, each so deep and superficial between the forceps and the stone. I love this ode and have a peculiar affinity with the next to last wee stanza -- what passes between ourselves lacks only in confidence. and what is confidence but a secret which perishes in us, owing, I suspect, to some chomping on the bit called humility. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 01/02/14 at 04:35 PM No secret what "secrets" can do! You both personalize and generalize on secrets and what they mean. And yes some secrets we have are even secrets to ourselves! |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 01/03/14 at 01:46 AM Just an excellent write lady! Thank you. |
| Posted by Rob Littler on 01/03/14 at 05:11 PM I have the image of us all, thrust headlong in to the comfortable real, trailing our truths behind us, unseen...the wholeness is a projection, the shared vision is a lie I tell myself. :::::::::::::::::::::::SIGH:::::::::::::::::::::::: |
| Posted by Dane Campbell on 01/23/14 at 09:53 PM Yet another shining example of your gift. |
| Posted by Amos Last on 01/31/14 at 09:58 AM such a joy of language, this
no secret there. |
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