The Presence of Ghosts.

a piece about truth and lies

How do I know a lie is a lie, and the truth is true? And what when the lie is coming from the voice inside?

Or at least the inside voice the outside gave me…

A lie can die a lie, in peace with all its ugly

because a lie finds tranquility in the silence of the truth it has buried.

The truth cannot die peacefully

because the untold does not rest,

and the told that gets forgotten, returns again.

The truth knows forgetting is work.

The lie knows its work is to erase memory.

The truth invites us to see and seek for ourselves.

The lie villainizes curiosity, independent thought and thinking.

The truth compels us to doubt and to question,

to investigate and explore.

The lie destroys resources and manipulates information.

The lie refuses depth and clarity.

The truth guides us through the depths of transparency.

When we say “you know the truth by the way it feels” we don’t always also say that the feeling isn’t always easy.

Sometimes the relief of the truth can be heavy and delayed,

while the satisfaction of a lie may be immediate,

its weightlessness because it is empty without truth to fill it.

Some truth, especially when repeatedly forgotten or untold, feels sharp and jagged,

edges which the truth-teller learns how to hold.

To the liar, the truth cuts at the mouth.

The truth will tell you that sometimes it is not tidy.

The lie will swear to its tidiness even as it rests in the ruins of its deceit.

When we refuse the truth, forget the truth, do not know the truth,

we run the risk of forgetting and losing ourselves.

The lie is ghastly

The truth is ghostly.

One has the power to kill,

the other the responsibility to haunt.

And here we are,

in the presence of so many ghosts.