On Truth-Birds and Human Audacity – Writers House Review

Christopher Ray

In my experience,

a truth is an alluring promise,

and an intoxicating falsehood.

Sometimes I feel that every truth ever,

is whizzing about in the atmosphere,

billions of air molecules excited by heat.

And that my share as a human being,

(one of those hopeless pursuits for which we humans are known)

is to reach up with my bare hands and grasp clumsily,

for a truth shooting by,

any truth,

and claim it for my own.

And tame it,

like a rare wild bird,

and confine it to a cage,

of words and paragraphs,

and parade it around,

for all to see.

But if I’m just a man,

and if a truth is a rare wild bird,

soaring freely in the ether,

How dare I tame it?

And what’s more,

when I do attempt to tame it,

(for once again it is my lot as a human)

and parade it in its golden cage,

and profit from its proliferation,

and grow rich and fat on the commodification of its beauty,

Only then will I unlatch the golden latch,

and reach very cautiously through the golden bars,

(for I am afraid that it will fly away forever)

and only then will I realize it is dead,

ossified to its golden perch,

rainbow feathers littering the bottom of the cage,

like shards of rainbow glass.

Much later I will sit,

a withered strip of leather and regret,

alone on my stool,

the ground carpeted with golden cages,

and truth-bird-husks.

But before me, on an easel will rest,

one rainbow macaw,

frozen in glorious flight.

For I will have finally realized.

A truth-bird cannot be captured.

A truth-bird cannot be tamed.

But perhaps some small dimension,

might be preserved,

with a little art.

Christopher Ray expects to graduate in 2025 with a double major in philosophy and business analytics & IT. Originally from Metuchen, NJ, Christopher loves to tap dance, cook, and buy more books than he has time to read. He is currently interested in existentialism, false objectivity, and the many things we do with speech, the combination of which inspired the writing of this poem.

Christopher wrote this poem in a course taught by Paul Blaney, who selected the piece for inclusion in WHR.