Page 75 - Wallingford Magazine Issue 56 Autumn 2025

The Lies I Never Told
Oh the lies I never told you
that might have made you think Roots
that you had met the queen of queens Roots of my ancestors,
and were on the brink
of lifelong luxury and pleasure rich soil upon which I stand.
satisfaction without measure Patterns handed down through generations—
a pleasure boat to never sink some I have broken,
some I continue to heal.
I could have made up lovely stories As I mend the present,
of everlasting glories the past and future mend with me.
faking wealth and other treasure Time becomes a ribbon of living energy,
prospective proceeds without measure past, present, and future
stacked like building blocks,
Ah – no such lies, no crooked cries
did ever even tempt me each supporting the next.
I knew – surprise – how I was wise Choices of yesterday shape today;
enough to so exempt me choices of today ripple forward.
from telling tales I’d soon regret Every path I have walked
and from them I would only get has carried me to this moment.
distrust dishonor and I bet Here, I arrive in gratitude—
complete rejection from your set. gratitude for the suffering

But wouldn’t it be fun someday that shaped my strength,
a game of let’s pretend to play? gratitude for the ones
who gave me life,
by Anne Crawford Storz for even in their wounds,

they were teachers of love.
by Lynne Ford
Shred

Cats shredded the bag
Of papers to be shredded
After I sorted a stack of papers
A task I had dreaded Etheree #1

They tore open the bag I
And then, they dragged wonder
It across the kitchen, if I let
Makin’ a mess that I’m fixin’ dark world events
burn my soul too much,
To shred paper takes time
I could use for making rhymes my anxiety soars
But, some things, we must shred and my bold pressure with it,
Don’t leave it to others when we’re dead I will take this moment, this place,
to dwell within my most serene space,
I guess my kitties can read though not quite hidden quiet protected
For the word SHRED was written
On the bag; they did just that: by Karl Traichel
Shredded the bag, did my kittens

by Karen Jacobson Burwell

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