The Truth, It Seems (A Poem) – The Writings of Tom Grasso

I once heard a voice through the timbers,

It’s breath shook branches and rustled leaves scattered upon the ground.

“What do you do with this moment?”

I sighed,

Knowing what I was supposed to say to answer,

Knowing what was expected of me in response,

Yet knowing it was a lie.

The truth, it seems, was nothing I was told I could do.

I was taught something different,

I was shown a path not my own,

And I agreed to the limits others had placed on themselves,

As though they were my own sacred truth,

My birthright,

The agreements I had made at conception.

Their truth had been turned into my lie.

My truth, it seems, was nothing I was told I could do.

I stared silently into the soul of the forest,

The growl,

I could not be sure if it was out there,

Or radiating from my trembling mind,

A deep breath, and I knew what I must do,

My mouth opened, but no words would be born,

My heart, instead, gave it’s answer.

This truth, it seems, was nothing I was told I could do.

I would live,

Without mercy offered to the demons that would see me die.

A code, written not in the book of others

But out of a desire to find my own bliss,

A life not being lived in the light of another’s torch,

But of the one I had built, that I had lit,

With my own trusting hands.

The truth, it seems, was something I knew I could do.

I turned, and walked to my own destiny,

Cleansed by the dirt of trails I would find,

Forged by the fears I would banish into history,

A deep breath,

Unsteady legs would become strong,

Uncertain thoughts would die on their vine,

My life became my own.

The truth, it seems, was something I discovered I had done.