Almost as soon as I wrote about
Post Secret, I came upon the following poem, "A Secret Life," by Stephen Dunn. My only contribution is to note how exhausting and debilitating a secret life can be. Unless you're Clark Kent, try to do without.
Why you need to have one
is not much more mysterious than
why you don't say what you think
at the birth of an ugly baby.
Or, you've just made love
and feel you'd rather have been
in a dark booth where your partner
was nodding, whispering yes, yes,
you're brilliant. The secret life
begins early, is kept alive
by all that's unpopular
in you, all that you know
a Baptist, say, or some other
accountant would object to.
It becomes what you'd most protect
if the government said you can protect
one thing, all else is ours.
When you write late at night
it's like a small fire
in a clearing, it's what
radiates and what can hurt
if you get too close to it.
It's why your silence is a kind of truth.
Even when you speak to your best friend,
the one who'll never betray you,
you always leave out one thing;
a secret life is that important.
Above are two submissions to the Post Secret Project, and they remind me that a) relationships between people do not end, they merely change, and b) emotions are rarely genuine and pure. Methinks Paul Simon doth protest too much when he sings, "I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain", though clearly there are many who appreciate the man who said,
