The Secret, Told (Part 3)

Just having
woken from my slumber,
the air is already
heavy on my
unequivocal assertion:

I must tell
my secret today,
I must.

Whom will I tell?
How will I say it?
Is it even worth
predicting or
should I just live
And let it happen?

Maybe my biggest
roadblock has been
overthinking,
the situation, the
aftermath, my
future.

Maybe nothing will
change whatsoever
when I utter it?

I'd like to think that
in my heart
nothing will change
when I unchain
this burden, but
what a burden it
has been for all
these years.

How it has made
me see the world
differently, as if
I am staring directly
into a fisheye lens,
margins bending
outward

and the
center being pushed
back, coloured further
by a filter, objects'
essence in
different hues.

I am preparing
myself:

dressing up
in finery not
too fine,

rubbing the mousse
through my
hair for perfect
effect—
but not too perfect,

repeating it
over, and over,
and over, until
I get it just right,
what it I want
to say in that
moment of Truth.

And in this
process I have decided
the who,
the person I will
utter my secret to is
my best friend of
a decade I've
traveled across
continents with
and who I know
will never abandon
me, regardless of
what I have to say.

I step out the house,
styled and over-prepared,
all of this attention to
detail lost, as nervous
anticipation lights neural
pathways in my body,
sending jitters, clammy
skin, unease,

you'd think I'm giving the
most important speech
of my life.

In a way I am.
Not in front of
energized masses
as a dream was
uttered for all to hear
or a graduation speech
cherished forever,

but this is the most
important moment of
my life,

years of struggle
overcome, but not
forgotten, in uttering
a single phrase.

I am almost there,
almost to his house,
modern ecological design
and soft curves,
the little flower
garden
out back with blooming
orchids,
the wall of books
and wooden step stool
I am afraid to stand on—

comfort in the
moments leading
up to the uncomfortable.

I try to prevent my
face from going contorted
and I am winning!
I am getting farther
than I have ever gotten
before on the power
of my will:

I cannot live a lie.
I cannot live in shadow.
I must be free.

An invigorating feeling
and then I see him
sitting outside in
sunshine by the garden,
smiling face, and
I shatter the soft
scene like a brick through
glass,

I must tell you something,
I say in a voice meek and
serious, knowing I need to
save all my strength for
the moment of utterance.

He seems concerned as
I tell him this, the smile
dissolving to a concerned
look as he offers me a sip
of water,
which I take without
hesitation as I feel
cool liquid slide, slowly,
down my throat,
that peculiar "glug" noise
making my lose
nervousness, if for a
second.

I look at him, with
a ferocity that must
be difficult to focus on,
and breathe—
slowly, laboured,
running my hand
through my hair,
careful style
lost to untamed
territory.
Thick silence
Clouds the
Warmth of spring renewal,
as he remains
unwavering in
his gaze.

In this moment,
I know he is a true friend,
dealing with my
insoluble behaviour.

That thought
alone liberates me,
to merely
open my mouth
And let harsh whispers
escape my body:

Listen, I have
something to tell
you that I never
told anybody else.

Almost there,
Almost there,
I tell myself.

It is a secret
which I have
held on to
for so long
because I
have been afraid
to say it.
I have been
ashamed,
worried
it would
forever ruin
whatever
image you
might have
had of me.

(Not so hard,
it's started and
will just flow...)

But I cannot
be silent any
longer. I'm tired
of letting
this boa
constrictor
run wild with
my body.

When I was
a little boy...

You know
how I never
really talk about
my mother or
father…well,
when I was
little, my father
used to molest
me, at night,
I was five or six,
like a young tree
enduring a
thunderstorm,
he would put his
hand in places
that he shouldn't
and my mother knew!
And to this day
I've lived with that
feeling of disgust,
and shame, and guilt,
and I can't
even believe I've
managed to get
this all out.


In the silence,
I know that my secret
has melted,
At least a little,
a certain lightness
reawakening like a phoenix
from the darkness,

maybe I can fly now,
coast on air currents
to lands and experiences
I have never been able to
discover before—
too hesitant, too guarded,

but that dream of
future dissipates
as I am lost in the tenderness
of an embrace,

lost to the sheer
exhaustion of unchaining
this secret,

lost to the present.