(Dedicated to my friend Carlos Velasquez who shared many of his secrets with me) <br /> <br />There's a wooden box that I buried deep <br />Where a rocky trail still winds. <br />And the secrets held within that box <br />No one else shall ever find. <br /> <br />Encased within a concrete tomb, <br />It's safe from prying hands, <br />And only I know where it is <br />In my raped and ravaged land. <br /> <br />It holds my youth, my joys, my tears, <br />In pictures I amassed. <br />And notes within a hidden book <br />Reveal my troubled past. <br /> <br />I felt that when I fled my land <br />I must leave something there - <br />Some part of me - for I would not <br />Again inhale its air. <br /> <br />And so I left my secret box <br />In a land diseased by war. <br />A land to which I'll ne'er return; <br />My home, El Salvador.<br /><br />Lone Dog<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-secret-box-3/
