did you think truth
would not out
as truth does.
did you think this path of the heart
was all skipping through the forest
among the golden leaves of autumn
while butterflies weave light
among the trees.
did you think you would not be asked
to walk this path at night
among your shadows and your fears
and still be at the table in the morning
while quietly scraping dirt
and blood of beasts you have battled
from your nails beneath your shawl.
did you think
your heart would open
to morning light and birdsong
without tearing flesh
just a little.
it is our selves
that we lie to
when we turn away