Secrets of My Silence

Artwork by Aunia Kahn

If you have noticed, (and maybe you haven't) there have been no posts on this blog for a long time. I have a bunch of drafts of poems and stories just sitting there, I feel sort of stuck as far as my creativity goes. I really hope my silent streak will end soon! I need to sit down and focus on writing something that makes sense, this might be a challenge for me. :D I think this picture is perfect for how I feel as far as my voice goes, and also it matches the poem below. I saw this posted on Facebook and I stuck with me. We have all have secrets and reasons for them. So until I post my own writing, enjoy this.... :)

The Secret Is Out

At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,

The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend;
Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my dear, there’s never smoke without fire.
Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.
For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up on the cement wall,
The scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,
The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
There is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this.

~ W.H. Auden