“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them -- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”
― Stephen King, Different Seasons
The Secret
Time was spent once,
pouring Love on a Secret,
to the point that it peeped from a crack,
it was courageous and heard but retracted back,
unsure, if it was whole
or in part; uncertain if breath
was strong,
enough,
to truly mark a heart. Bashful in sun, and blinking
in moonlight, it whispered,
under cover of stars,
still tender and restless and enclosed
in scars, of horrors and
its previous wars; it glowed
of all the times
it had crept out before;
hiding behind things experience
had taught - misunderstanding,
and the terror of shame...
The Secret had learned
that it must not say, the heart-wants
and calls of its soul. In telling, somehow,
it had made them all go, and leave a needless pit
of disgrace; a sucking hole of usual and commonplace,
that failed
to remotely comprehend. But the Love,
it listened, beginning to end,
drew the Secret
from ashes, like a soaring fire-bird.
...And in the end, all it took,
was a hand, true time,
and actions,
that spoke louder than words.
This is so poignant and says much, like a spread of cards telling what every writer must do. What a gift to the world, Amy. Thank you.
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