By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo
IF everything is known, this life would be one boring experience, there is nothing to ponder on, to guess, to contemplate. So many are baffled by the biggest secrets of life. For example, what happens when we die? The dead are silent about it. Some who “rose from the dead” describe it in so many ways. Up to now, the “after-life” is a promise, which, without material evidence, remains a matter of faith. The universe is full of secrets, some continue to unfold, some exist in the black hole.
I do not know of anyone who does not have a secret. One way or the other, everyone keeps a piece of information all to themselves or shared to a few. The secret shared with one or two will inevitably be shared with others as the parties to the secret succumb to human frailty, or transition to senility. Secrets sometimes become evident and escape the consciousness of parties involved. Sometimes the secret which becomes evident, is not the secret that is truly being kept. There is enormous texture in secrets, a richness that permeates consciousness, spinning itself in a multiverse.
Others think they know of a “secret”, and without validation, would hold is as gospel truth and spread the word, in secret. By the time truth arrives, the secret has spun its own truth and its own life. Most often, people are prone to spread “secrets” they have heard from someone, who heard it from another, who gave the “secret” an interesting plot and a credible face, that is unrecognizable to the one around whom the secret was all about.
There is also the secret that swings from the extreme end of happiness to the other end of loneliness. This movement is aptly described by a friend, Luz María López in her comment, “Yes, in a heart all pain is a spelled secret. And then agony melts in the flow of all memories.”
And there is the secret love, love that we kept even from the object of the love, never ever to be confessed, but whispered only to the fire trees and the hummingbirds on the climb to Heartbreak Hill.
ice caps thawed by warming,
unfolding stories hidden by time.
and then, an overwhelming silence,
dragged by its own thickness
burying the words
in a tomb, inside her heart.
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