Trigger Warning: Family

Secrets cycle through, generation to generation,

At first, lost in the last rays of dusk,

Awash in white light and then consumed by the rising darkness.

But then, with the first orange glows of dawn

Secrets cycle back down to the next of the kin.

They were secrets for a reason.

Ugly, unbecoming of good southern folk.

Uncomfortable to tell, more uncomfortable yet to receive.

Words come in short breaths, ears hang on to every syllable,

Desperately seeking the ultimate gift: answers.

Answers for the sobbing 16 year old.

Answers for the lost 24 year old.

Answers for the lonely 30 year old.

A sense of understanding for the woman standing before you.

So many whys answered in brief half-truths.

So many hours wasted in contemplation,

Only to, at long last, have the cycle of secrets circle back.

Finally. Understanding.

Acceptance will come, not today, or tomorrow.

And the secrets will stay secrets, lost again

To the rising darkness of the night,

Until the morning of the next generation

Begins its ascent over the horizon.