https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
“To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.” - William Shakespeare
If you do not tell the truth about yourself, you cannot tell it about other people. – Virginia Woolf
“Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others.” Fyodor Dostoevsky
“The worst part about being lied to is knowing you weren’t worth the truth.” Jean-Paul Sartre
Now, I suspect most if not all of us tell lies sometimes, whether to ‘spare’ someone home truths or, more likely, to spare ourselves having to cope with theirs and our own at the same time. Whatever motivates the telling of them can be as deceitful, if not more so, than the lies themselves.
Living with a lie can be a harsh, lonely environment; such was the closet imposed on me at the ripe old age of 14 years by family, church and a generally homophobic 1950’s before I finally came out as a gay man. There are other closets, of course, and other lies; if the cap fits…?
THE LIE or A MATTER OF CONSCIENCE
Whenever I may try
just to put something right,
you’ll argue with me
one long, dark night till dawn,
and just when I’m sure
I’ve won, a watery sun and birdsong
arrive to prove me wrong
It matters hardly at all
should you colour me white,
for soon forgot,
waiting to catch you out;
if no real harm done,
easy enough to simply shrug me away
if only to nag you another day
It’s who colours me black
or even subtler shades of grey
has the most to fear,
living on the edge of a pit
of snaky half truths
eager to begin, on any slip of the tongue,
a song no swan ever sung
Oh, but I so revel in leading people astray,
anywhere, any time of day...
Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022
[Note: This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RT
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