Part of the reason that the best poetry only hints at a message can be attributed to the wisdom of the onion. A long time ago, this root wonder began to reveal itself as it shed its papery skin. One thin, delicate piece that leads to chunky, tear provoking, overwhelming odors. In first approaching the onion, would you be ready for what lies within?
Some say that we find ourselves as we slowly strip back layers of the onion. Therapies are built on this theory. The poet taps into some of that unconscious material and writes about the roots or the leaves that give the onion life. To write about the onion itself is a bit like disclosing the bio of the writer. Interesting, but hardly the point of the exercise.
The revelation could be a bubbling to the surface of something previously repressed or a creative thought in loose form. The moment of expression brings that unnamed, sometimes reviled thing to light. We get our wits about us and write with a layer of protection. This urge to share may be our soul’s effort to raise the collective consciousness. Maybe we need to pass on survival tips for life. This exchange happens without the poet or the audience sensing that the onion was only partially peeled.
Illustration courtesy of Pixabay.