I’m Going To Tell You A Secret

Do not say how horrible
this world has become for you
without speaking as well of how horrible
it has always been to others.

If you are surprised to feel at last
its downward slant and how
you now struggle to walk anywhere
when every destination is now somehow uphill all the way,

imagine lifetimes of doing this; imagine
the millions now alive and millions now passed
who have needed to be ceaselessly wary,
clutching their hearts, guarding their footsteps.

I’m going to tell you a secret 
that’s really never been a secret:
your prior ease was grounded
in the uneasiness of those others. 

I’m going to tell you a secret
that’s really never been a secret:
your recognizing it today and calling it new
feels vaguely insulting to those vast crowds.

I’m going to tell you a secret
that’s really no secret at all:
some of what you wail about, what ails you
now, what hurts your back and strains your lungs?

Some of what feels so new to you
is age-old and so common
that your shock and anguish
look at least a little like a lie.