Truth Serum

Truth Serum

by Naomi Shihab Nye

We made it from the ground-up corn in the old back pasture.
Pinched a scent of night jasmine billowing off the fence,
popped it right in.
That frog song wanting nothing but echo?
We used that.
Stirred it widely.  Noticed the clouds while stirring.
Called upon our ancient great aunts and their long slow eyes
of summer.  Dropped in their names.
Added a mint leaf now and then
to hearten the broth.  Added a note of cheer and worry.
Orange butterfly between the claps of thunder?
Perfect.  And once we had it, 
had smelled and tasted the fragrant syrup,
placing the pan on a back burner for keeping,
the sorrow lifted in small ways.
We boiled down the lies in another pan till they disappeared.
We washed that pan.



This poem found me on the internet two summers ago, when I'd just learned that a colleague in North Dakota had been diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer.  He died within two weeks of his diagnosis.  I barely knew the man, but his abrupt death hit me hard nonetheless.

If nothing else, I hope these words from Naomi Shihab Nye help me (us) remember that often we must actively focus on the truth and beauty of the world, and work to wash away the lies that creep up on us.  For me, those lies tend to include the shame of failed perfectionism, fears of disappointing myself and others, and the notion that if I don't know it, have it, feel it, see it now, I never will.  Lies, lies, damn lies.

What lies do you find yourself having to boil down and wash away?

What pieces and parts of your life do you use as 'truth serum'?


...the adventure continues...