Deep deep deep down
Under the tumble of flesh and the hair on my crown
Way way below beneath the things that stumble and crumble in the undertow
Seeping deep and sleeping steep
Beyond the ravine of my peaceful keep
These live
We cannot speak of the things they keep
We cannot think of their secrets deep
We cannot give air – oxygen – to these things unfair
They must be let be
They must be not seen
When we give names to the unseen things
They might live
Like fear
Like death
Like betrayal
Like isolation
Like confusion
Like misunderstanding
Like anger
Like hurt
Like brokenness
Like sickness
Like the coldest emptiest darkest caverns
That attempt to bludgeon my beliefs
In warmth
In love
In goodness
In comfort
In safety
In hope
In friendship
In shelter
In wellness
In kindness
And trust
I might turn down a thousand lovers, wealth and riches, good health for a decade, the dream of family, children and rest, if I knew that trust could remain sacred
And I could speak in truth without fear.

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