No More Mysteries

Here’s one: a woman needn’t’ve first given birth
to be able to nurse a baby. It’s how we’re made
and what we naturally do, almost not even worth
calling an enigma, were it not how few on earth
so freely give without something back in trade
even for a friend they’re said to’ve known well,
except there ain’t no more mysteries left to tell.
So if anyone wants to know any more about me,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I’ll send them to you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Seems you know what to do.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Our family’s got nothing we don’t openly share
without reservation, without jealousy or control
or secrets or drama. “When I’m no longer there,”
she told us, “he’s not to forget the love and care
he had in me.” The poems. The storms. The whole
unique experience of crossing lives in parallel,
except there ain’t no more mysteries left to tell.
So if anyone wants to know any more about me,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I’ll send them to you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Seems you know what to do.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
When words to love my beloved crossed my lip
that first time, I thought I’d take his place beside
her anywhere he already’d been. Alas, my hip
couldn’t take the drop! I like to think I don’t slip
too often, but that time I could’ve easily died
and simply let everything lie the way it all fell,
except there ain’t no more mysteries left to tell.
So if anyone wants to know any more about me,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I’ll send them to you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Seems you know what to do.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I can sing the Star Spangled Banner in reverse.
I grew up in east Oregon. I can hold my breath
for almost three minutes. I never got worse
than a B in school (except for math). I nurse…
(no, that’s no secret anymore). I’ll face death
incommunicado—nothing from me they’ll compel,
except there ain’t no more mysteries left to tell.
So if anyone wants to know any more about me,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I’ll send them to you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Seems you know what to do.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Is there some private thing
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I’ve done or said?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Not when there’s good gossip
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀to be spread!
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Night after night, long after you think you’ve let go
of what we created together, it still burns like a star
as close as a light in your eye, exploding as though
our moment in time stretched as far as it can know
of how I was and will be what you can’t be and are
to reach you in dreaming easy as casting a spell,
except there ain’t no more mysteries left to tell.
So if anyone wants to know any more about me,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀I’ll send them to you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Seems you know what to do.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀




written for Daily Prompt: A Mystery Wrapped in an Engima
at the Daily Post

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4 Responses to No More Mysteries

  1. matrixilluminos says:

    moving, beautiful …love it:) love the header image, too…kind of like this poem!

  2. I’ll send them to you–
    o the gossip of gossip
    Let go
    Forget the rest
    Live Love Free

    • Easier to do now that I’m over a thousand miles away from him. In so small a town, with the attacks being so malicious, it wasn’t as easy to shrug off. Maybe that’s the thing in this poem most responsive to the prompt, the thing most don’t know about me – that’s it’s not easy for me to swallow destructive ill-will directed against me and those I love.

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