Keep to the secret paths those within that none observe hidden from the public view lest the monsters sniff out blood they care nothing for the goal of seeking light beyond dark shoals
there is no shame in injuries distress is part of life’s regime troubles shared are a remedy binding sores for glad relief if only this did not bring the hungry wolves of misery
the packs hunt in plain sight with long knives near at hand a friend’s mask conceals much worse with the edge behind their back the scent of wounds is a delight a feast is hinted by the invite
ambrosia set upon a plate then truthfulness is betrayed in response the light is shunned hid away from the sun wrapped around the wounded frame with only self to know the pain.
The poem “Secret Paths” was inspired by a conversation I had with a fellow dancer. I stated that I felt a degree of healing from my public sharing of struggles. Writing becomes a therapeutic pursuit. My fellow dancer stated that they did write also, but they did not share any of it with other people. In fact, some of the struggles were never directly documented as they remained bottled up in the self. I asked why, and the dancer stated that young people, specifically teenagers, were very cruel. To show weakness only invited attack.