Blackbirds
What is there if not truth?
Distrust, betrayal, always hurt,
Disappointment,
That once again, the heart laid bare
Has been scratched and torn in its chest.
With truth
The world turns smoothly,
Carrying with it a contentment
Of belief and trust, with knowledge
Two hearts beat as one.
Without truth, even in the smallest ways,
Festering, anger, betrayal, disbelief,
Come home to roost.
These big BLACKBIRDS will not be moved,
To allow the opening once again
To truth.
Untruth, the politician’s friend.
They practice it well, tutors extraordinaire,
With such aplomb we digest it well.
God is Truth and He knows,
Of all the small betrayals
And how they add to form
Distrust.
To believe, to believe, to believe.
Is this a vain wish and hope
That maybe, the heart will not ache,
The heart that can ache no more?
Pinocchio was unhappy and sad
As any child will know.
To learn again to believe is to forgive.
First those birds must go home to roost,
And they are loath to leave,
The spirit is tired and weary,
All the while straining to stand
Up once more.
To say the knowledge of the importance
Of truth and honesty was not told,
Why ask such a question of anyone?
Never should there be this need
For with it comes the rogue seed,
To flourish and bloom with all its might.
A favoured morsel of the big black bird.
