Reminiscent: A Collection

The Secret Teller

Every town has one,
Or so I was told.
They’d spew out the secrets,
Of those young and old.

Through trials and treasons,
And uptight reasons,
They held up their spot,
The ornery secret rot.

Why we needed them,
Was way lost to me.
Perhaps all in all,
It was a great mystery.

To them went the broken,
the needy, the lost,
To them the desperation
Of those with no thought of the cost.

Trapped in a chest,
Oh what a mess.
The deeper inner-demons,
Rid of those atrocious heathens.

On their mountain they sit,
Curled up in the mist.
Waiting in their nook,
That old secret crook.

They go when they’re weakest,
And at their most neediest.
Unsettled by their holdings.
Oh to be locked up and molding.

My grasp on reality,
Of what’s wrong and right,
Is surely upholding,
Tied down tight.

The Teller doth view them,
And hear their request.
Hearts beating firmly,
In their lonely chest.

For why would I do it?
Why would I bother?
Why share what disturbs me,
with the one who destroyed my father?

They tell them their fears,
Their worries, their losses.
Telling leaves them in tears,
Crumpled down in the mosses.

I’ve never heard of a time,
Where they didn’t accept them.
Only one to hear but the pine,
That secret protector.

From but the stories,
I’ve heard how the Teller handles.
With a soft touch, a caress,
Flickering passion of candles.

But such a service,
Cannot go without payment.
To them the deepest condolence,
That withered secret exchanger.

What would the teller give me?
It doesn’t hurt to wonder.
Would it be one of misery?
Oh that sorrowful secret hoarder.

I’ve heard they choose it out precisely.
Of the ones they’ve collected.
So that it will fit perfectly nicely,
These secrets accumulated.

They dust it off,
And hand it to you.
Then speak with a cough,
The secret entirely true.

So what if I told them,
My deepest disturbance?
Won’t I handle well,
The secret against which I stand a chance?

After they get their new secret,
They drift back into town in a daze.
A new weight has been met.
Passing by with an empty gaze.

Does it change them forever?
Does it change them at all?
Is their meeting with the secret teller,
Treasured as a china doll?

When answer evade one,
There’s no other choice,
But to seek out the solution.
Set foot in the grass so moist.

“Oh young one, what says you?
Your youth is so true.
What brings here a life so new,
The night of the full moon?”

The Teller before me,
Legs crossed loosely,
Hands gnarled and curled,
Eyes twinkling bold.

“Speak what it is that woes thee,
Utter your burdens free.
With you I can share weightlessness,
Even just for a minute or so.”

Their back was hunched,
Shoulders down,
Joints crunched.
At this sight, I couldn’t help but frown.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long, you see.
I’ve been holding on to every ounce of misery.
The thought came to me years ago,
I’m not sure I’m ready to share it, though.”

A silence befell the isolated clearing
As though the forest held its breath
Down at me the teller was peering.
Was it my will being put to the test?

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
I finally nerved and said,
“Don’t you ever get sick of it?
Don’t you want to tell your own secrets instead?”

The secret teller continued to stare,
Eyes beady and small.
Then they spoke with little care,
“Boy, you have some gall.”

“Your face, it’s familiar.
Are you sure this is your first?
I’m sure you’ve visited my lair.
Is it for relief you thirst?”

“It is my father you have met!”
Fury coming hard and fast.
“These queries are my secret!
Now give me a new one at last!”

A chuckle from the stone.
Seated upon boulder like throne.
“For those like me, we are quite prone,
To the everlasting threat of being alone.”

“For of course I want to tell the secrets of my own.
But who wants to hear the woes of a drone.
I give relief to those in need
And that is my eternal creed.”

With solemn they spoke,
Words cement in my throat.
Of a distant frog croak.
The lack of a new secret was something of note.

“Secret teller, your honesty is fine,”
But what I really came her for,
To have something I can’t decline.
To challenge myself like never before.”

The secret teller appraised me.
I tried to stand proud.
The aura of mystery,
The settling in of cloud.

“Leave these woods,
And come no more.
Leave these woods,
You already have what you came for.”

What this meant,
I had no clue.
I drifted back to the present,
Feeling something new.

Every town has one,
And that is what I do know.
They’d spew out the secrets,
Of those who want to grow.

They hold in the secrets,
And forgo any pleasures.
They do it for the desperate,
That caring secret dispenser.