POEM
Truth:
yours is a stark
strange and
terrible beauty
I love you
above all things
You’re always there
at labyrinth’s end
like the Minotaur
like Death
You point me to
what I truly have:
no material thing;
no body,
no soul
other than my own.
You reveal the face
that’s masked
You unveil the ordinariness
behind the gorgeous farce
You are cruel
but in the end
you are only kind
You cut me like
a surgeon’s blade
You free me
from the lies
You tear the cataracts
from my eyes
I love you, Truth
I am a sojourner to you.
This poem was inspired by Sojourner Truth (1797?-1883), a black woman who was born a slave and following an experience of illumination became a preacher, an abolitionist, writer, friend of the famous. She died poor. She had regal bearing and liked fine clothes, soberly tailored, of rich fabrics. Truth had the gift of eloquence. She spoke with the force of a prophet, but with a disarming, earthy humor that surprised and captivated her audience.
