Pandora’s Box (revisited)

Not sure

I went to bed

The same woman

I woke up

An act of boldness


Put your big girl pants on

Led to opening

Pandora’s box

Old battered Whitman sampler tin

Holding flotsam and jetsam

Of absent father’s life


Thought I was prepared

For the truths it held

Hand written letters

Ghosts calling from the past

Clues to a puzzle

Was his madness

My madness?

Does my poet soul

Vibrate in frequency with his?

Three generation inheritance




Poetic passion

Trying to glean

Understanding of

Nature vs nurture


But the humble tin

Held no answers

To these questions

Pandora’s box

Revealed a man-child

Scrawl eerily similar

To mine



That the few truths

thought I had been entrusted with

About my parents

About our family

Were a fantasy

A fabrication

Refuted by an unexpected

Voice from their past


Were these lies



To protect me

To protect his memory

To protect her?


There is no objective truth

To be sought

No case to put

A detective on

Only players able

To provide insight



I am left alone

In the wee hours

To sort through


Left to reconcile

Who I thought they were

Who I thought we were

With the contents

Of Pandora’s box



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