Christine Ray opens a box seeking secrets revealed.
Not sure I went to bed
same woman I woke up
An act of boldness
courage
Put your big girl pants on
led to opening
Pandora’s box
old battered Whitman sampler tin
holding flotsam and jetsam
of absent father’s life
Thought I was prepared
for the truths it held
handwritten letters
ghosts calling from the past
clues to a puzzle
Was his madness
my madness?
Does my poet soul
vibrate with his?
Three generation inheritance
dyslexia
depression
poetic passion
trying to glean
understanding of nature vs nurture
Humble tin
held no answers
Pandora’s box
revealed a man-child
Scrawl eerily similar
to mine
I discover that the few truths
I thought I had been entrusted with
about my parents
about our family
were fantasy
fabrication
refuted by an unexpected voice from their past
Were these lies
half-truths
told to protect me
his memory
her?
No objective truth
to be sought
No case to…
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