So, finally, this is how it begins.
One day you're painting the walls,
And the whole thing caves. It starts with a crack,
Then a softness of collapse at just a touch.
Peel away the paint and you will see: the house is eaten,
Its shell filled with layers and layers of cells,
Incubator and birthplace to things that buzz and sting.
Tear out the hive and patch the wall. No matter.
Apply the paint, but still. You know what things may wait
Behind the sheen, how weakness feels and fear,
And finally, you know how it feels to be betrayed.
mmm you can only paint over the rot so much much before the whole thing caves in....that is for sure...i wonder too if the betrayal is anything but of yourself as well..for trying to cover it up
ReplyDeleteSo right, Brian. Trying to paint over the problems may be the biggest betrayal of all.
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ReplyDeleteWhat a sting on that last line ~ Paint and paint on the outside, but still pain & aches are still underneath ~ An excellent share Karen ~
ReplyDeleteKaren, this poem paints a vivid picture. You can paint and paint and paint, and eventually one finds one cannot cover the 'rot' of betrayal any longer!
ReplyDeleteHere I sit with a can of paint in one hand, a brush in the other, & the truth somewhere that mustn't be revealed. Shh! And me with no poker face...
ReplyDeleteah yes - sometimes we have to scrap away layers of layers of old paint to come to the core of things...and start painting with a fresh brush..
ReplyDeleteoof...this packs poetic punch. Betrayal is indeed rotten. Great piece Karen!
ReplyDeleteexcellent, it's true how things can just appear seemingly from nowhere
ReplyDeletePowerful words, indeed. I need to read more of your thoughts, so will continue wandering backwards...
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