We store our truths in layers,
peeling back the amount we can stand to see.
Each year peels away some layers and builds others
until we grow in furrows and in hillocks.

Smooth truth is for the very young.
The old need their protections
as memory, like flesh and misfortune,
begins to bury itself to cluster underground

in cliques and hidden passageways,
lurking like guests in a British mystery play,
searching for us as we search for them in kind.
Old beaus, lost children and beachside vacations

sealed shoulder-to-shoulder in a too-small room––
a pantry, perhaps, or closet––
waiting waiting
to be peeled away.

12 thoughts on “Layers

  1. Anton Wills-Eve

    Judy! Hey, cheer up sunshine, you’ve still got a third of your life before you if those family photos the other day are anything to go by! The sun’s out over here too so come over and start looking for a nice British beau or two before they all emigrate to Trump land in November 🙂 ciao Anton

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Sunday Share #2 – transcribingmemory

  3. Pingback: Layers — lifelessons – a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown | therapy-cooking

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