Eat the Sun
Tell, tell, tell your secrets
until your secrets tell you
the truth you’ve always known.
In the dark, they fed on your soul
but in the light, they feed you slow.
Do not eat yourself; do not be devoured.
You are not a cannibal; you are not prey.
Find nourishment in the light,
Let no false thing hold sway.
Secrets breed in the underground,
birthing feral disgrace.
But in the gorgeous beam
of an outdoor sun
your insides come out to play
while the dreary lies float away
and your pale-faced shame
tans by the bay
and you feel it to your bones:
this is a new day.
So you let your secrets out
to surf the waves
while your hope-filled toes meet
tides and the incoming day,
then you gorge yourself on light and truth
until your soul is fat, your mind intact,
and your courage is here to stay.