The Key
By Tim Hayakama
Some time ago, I found a key
Along a street beneath a tree
I wondered at its owner’s plight
Was he locked out? Was she all right?
Its teeth were dull, its face worn bare
From heavy use, lacking care
What chanced it here? Had it been lost?
A thief perhaps? Thoughtlessly tossed?
The key was strange, of unknown make
A locksmith shrugged, “It’s just a fake”
But a key it is, I knew inside,
To secret places, fears, or pride
To hurts unknown, to travesties
To wanton hearts or fantasies
To devastations yet untold
To strengths renewed, feeble made bold.
Perhaps this key would allow me
To choose whatever I might be?
A businessman with wealth and fame
A forceful presence: Wall Street’s bane?
Meetings with the SEC,
Bankers, Fed, or Treasury?
Temptation strong, it called to me:
“Try me, trust me, you will see…”
So late one night, while my wife slept
Into the secret dark I crept
Up the ridge, beneath a bush
The key I groped and I did push
Into my soul. It did not sink
In pain screamed I, but did not blink
For force it in, I must I knew
Were I to gain what I’d seen true
Then slowly, inch by inch, it went
Resistant soul I made relent
The turn came easy to the right
For conscience dead, there was no fight
And in that black time, instantly
I felt a joy pang far from free
For lost was my sweet innocence:
My wife, my kids, my strong defense
Against this world that often takes
From poor and loving ones it hates
But now I’m rich so why do I care?
I have my own. I do not dare
Disturb the order that gives me
Such adulation — all for free!
The key I lost the other day
It must have fled the other way
In search of rich souls to tempt blind
Take my word, if you should find
This key, that’s nothing but a fake,
Leave it be and do not take
For though I never want for naught,
I cannot get what can’t be bought
That had I once in great supply
But for that key did set aside.
Tim Hayakawa is an accountant who blogs at familymattersinhawaii.blogspot.com.
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