The Sickness Sweet

The Sickness Sweet

How many are the ways that we have found
To turn from truth that is discomfiting.
How few are they, who do not shy away –
Who walk upon that path that others scorn.

To bear contempt and persevere in pain,
To seek for no reward except for that
Which conscience grants – and yet to be denied
That peace within – is what awaits those few.

And yet, without them, what is left for us?
Can falsehoods, heaped on lies, reveal the truth?
It's only when we dare to question all,
That we've been sold, that bitter truth is sensed.

However bitter though that taste may be,
It's medicine to cure the sickness sweet,
The ailment that beclouds our sight and leads
To cruelties that multiply, unseen.

So we bemuse ourselves with this and that
Or twist and turn in struggle to survive –
And have no time to ask – or are content
To leave unasked – those questions that perturb.

How many are the ways that we have found
To color, filter, smudge – and so deceive.
And there are some, for whom the brazen lie
Comes swiftly to the shameless mind and tongue.

Arjun Janah < sjanah@aol.com >
2013 May 16th, Thu.
Brooklyn