Truth… [for Hoagland]

I read a piece of your life—your poem

today,

now I understand

why the darkness haunted them

mostly because they knew not what it held

their hubris ignorance excused

in their profound cowardice

that attempted to hide all evidence

bleached under false suns

scripture washed in pale idiom

chipped away at the nostrils

colored the eyes with strange dyes

relaxed our heads at the roots

the matriculation of the mind

they hid the truth in the dark

about the darkness

such irony since it is the womb

of darkness that gestates the light

the one they attempted to shackle

imprison for eternity

too afraid of what it might be

vilified to shame

chose the night to capture and hang

besetting the jazz and blues

of who holds the truth

about where the light comes from

it is birthed out of the uterus

of darkness

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