“The Tip of an Iceberg”

with a few words  I conceal   

under an ocean’s depth of denial   

flaws and faults   

I minimize old pain   

with bland responses that reveal nothing   

of my hurt   

You see only what I show   

a crystal castle floating on blue seas   

translucent   

sparkling pinnacles of light   

white perfection—an undefiled mirage   

jeweled spires   

cutting against cobalt sky   

graceful illusions I used to disguise   

their untruths   

below the surface lurks lies—   

love frozen into grotesque mutations   

sea monsters   

horrors and deceits they hide   

underneath where unexpected currents   

buffet me   

until I writhe free and climb   

back into the sunlight of brilliant diamonds—   

my iceberg   

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“The Moat”

Moat at Trim Castle
Trim Ireland Sept. 2010

Subconsciously,   
I dug the ditch   
a spoonful at a time,   
never realizing I retreated   
behind tower walls   
to protect our ways.   
With bridge drawn,   
I tucked us into safety,   
buffering us from atrocities—   
the truths too discordant to hear.   
The trench widened and deepened,   
separating us from outsiders—   
foreigners with cruel customs,   
invaders contaminating our traditions   
with alien perspectives.   
I defended our ideals   
with water and wishes;   
yearning to shelter and shield;   
armoring us against    
the rest of the world.   

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Trim Castle from across the Boyne River
September 2011