Poetry by Tracy Marks

Peeling the Onion

copyright 1987 by Tracy Marks


Once, peeling an onion I slipped and slid the knife blade through my finger. How typical, I thought; I seem to always be wielding knives and wounding myself, directing anger inward, unable to bear the sharp aroma released each time I contact a stifled feeling.

I was afraid to feel, afraid to cut through the layers of pain and anger, terror and despair compacted within me. I used the knife against myself rather than for myself, unwillingly hacking away at onions I felt forced to pare, resenting the stinging tears and that I, an adult, must prepare my own meal, provide my own nourishment.

I wield my knife more tenderly now, with care and concentration. Each time I slice beyond a layer of despair I discover faith awakening beneath it; beneath pain lies love that was denied; beneath fear, courage; beneath anger, affirmation of myself; beneath longing, desire to create value, the drive to actualize a dream.

Each day as I strip away and free another layer I experience that the richness, the pungency which I savor is released. when I free those layers I had most feared. The closer I penetrate to the heart of that onion and encounter its most secret vulnerability, the closer I approach the heart of myself and discover in that vulnerability, invincibility – the indomitable will to reach, to free, to be, to share my most essential self.





Back to Passing of Clouds Index