It was hidden behind a facade
It was the tree lost in the wood of lies
I was blind to it, didn't want to hear it
Even closed my ears and eyes
And stuck my head in the sand
But it was ferreted out, it was winkled out
And prized apart like an oyster to reveal its pearl
It was weighed in the hand, on the scales of justice
It has been weighed against the purest gold
And found to be of perfect carat
It has the clarity of a diamond
It shines a light, but not through a prism,
It does not dance like an ephemeral rainbow
It stands tall, but is often hard to pin down
It changes shape or appears to sometimes
But in reality it never changes at all
It is fact incarnate
It is the living flesh of an idea of man
But then women know it
As too a child can
It requires, like the pearl, grit to make it stick
Courage to tell it
the balls to speak it
But like a weight-lifter's load
It is a relief to get it off your chest
And often involves fits of tears
And smeared make-up and tissues
In hospital waiting rooms
Or beside beds
It is pure,
It is the most valuable treasure we own
Yet it cannot truly be sold
Because when this is tried it disappears
Below the fold
To others it is a tradable commodity
Because someone will pay top dollar for it
But when they have it, they only wish to hide it again
And cover ups are cheaper when they are smoked
With a pack of lies
It is like a ticking bomb then, liable to explode
In their hands
Or like a burning match it will burn the fingers
Of the one holding it, yes, it is sometimes fire
And sometimes ice, because they die with it.
They take it to their graves.
And then the trail runs cold,
But if we let ourselves sell the truth so cheaply
We sell with it our souls.
It comes out in the wash
With the dirty linen
It is the skeleton in the closet
To be discovered by the bin men
It is told in halves, in pieces of a puzzle
It is hinted at by clues or by fingerprints on a muzzle
It sometimes can seem dark, though often loud as a dog's bark
And like a dog with bone at play, it too must have its day
It is free to everyone whether a king or a slave,
Yet it can cost the earth, or it can cost a close shave,
It can slip from your hands when you don't watch it
You must keep your eye on the ball, you must be brave
It is the writing on the wall, it is the writing on your
grave
It is truth and most of all if you speak it then someone’s
life you might save
