in truth we lie

i told a lie
and this is the truth,
i really wasn’t There

i told the truth
and this is no lie,
i am certain
i still wasn’t There

but here where we are
i want you to know
i am—it’s true—still trying

so now do you believe me
when i try to tell you
exactly if i’m lying?

While I was a university student, a dear friend got me interested in Knots, a book of poetry by R. D. Laing. Laing was also a psychiatrist, although an unconventional one, who was fascinated by the complexities of emotional entanglement, and this was the endless source of inspiration for his poetry, the emotional knots we find ourselves in.

While in truth we lie is not written to be a Laing-like copy, I do confess to be being drawn to poetry that explores the specific intensely. That is the guiding principle for this poem: to look at the complexity of honesty in relationships.

The capital “There” is, of course, unusual in my poetry these days. It is used in this poem to indicate a place more important than a mundane “there”…in the sense of any general place. “I wasn’t there at the movies when you got there,” for example. Here, “There” means a specific place of grace or holiness, a station of truth and responsibility, of maturity.

And do I still like and admire Knots? That is an interesting question. I admire the poems for the complexity of their writing and the insight required to understand them, but like them? No, not any more, not really. I find them sadly depressing because they are more about defining emotional impasses then solving them. When I first read them I was amazed at their complexity but had not lived their meaning; having got to the age I am now, I am more comforted by the hope and support of emotional honesty and commitment and the belief that despite our misfortune to be human, we can build divinely inspired relationships. In the end, that is why I do not think in truth we lie is Laing-like.

Thank you for reading in truth we lie. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

john

© 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. This poem, either alone or with the notes that accompany it, may be printed and distributed—in part or amalgamated with other works—as long as the copyright notice and the address, http://bookofpain.wordpress.com, are also clearly printed with it and there is no fee charged.

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