Truth, Luciana Mollica

Truth

Luciana Mollica

You swallow air, Corrupted by the one that hurt you. No point in heaving. For years you’ve tethered hatred to your lungs, While grudge flowered in the chest cavity, Extending its lengthy petals like bronchioles. Her oxygen is yours now. No air is wrong.

Breath, my child.

For years I formed a picture of my face Through shards of a broken mirror. For years I cut divots into my smile, Not knowing that I could be whole again.

Go to the shop on the corner. Buy the mirror wrapped in lace. Steal it if you have to, For truth belongs to no one. Hand yourself limitless Panes of reflection. Hand yourself wholeness.

Truth flows from wide, wailing mouths And echoes between hollowed hallucinations And silence. Truth flowers in the wet garden That feeds the hungry soul. And waits not for you to believe in it.

It takes a sunrise to understand Truth, To forge into rights and wrongs

That surge beneath hot skin, Boiling under the scope of society. It takes a sunrise to warm your skin With the truth of a million voices. To face the fear of difference. Truth radiates on Grateful Faces, Faces of those that bend their branches To the sky they think they deserve. And they do deserve it, They do.