Poem: My Madness and I (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 5)

We’re…
We’re all…
We’re all mad…
…here…

I might be mad.
Seeing only lies
Fool’s gold truths
Creating a rhinestone and plastic fantasy
where nothing I know as true
is indubitably sound.
Terror is mold on the cork.
Loneliness is always
sour and astringent on the palate,
bittered, vinegared wine.

Crushing loneliness does not
make for a delicious vintage.
Its skin is sour,
bitter,
and vile.

Rather, I prefer to
squeeze
plump globes hanging heavy
from sturdy trunks,
fruit, or blood,
dripping down my arms
running floods beneath my feet.

I now serve the Mad God,
the Dying God,
the Reborn,
Thrice-born God.
(Io!)
He is a perfect study in madness.

This is the beginning,
I have just barely begun.
I will continue to follow Him.
Only through this journey
can I learn my own madness,
traced in the dust
by the soles of his sandalled feet.
The dust, and the lessons,
are not to be tamed,
nor erased,
but to be learned,
mapped, explored, loved,
reintegrated into myself
and taught how to be a good citizen.

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About Shawna Jacques

All posts subject to change without notice.

Posted on 2011/06/06, in Poem-a-day, Poetry, Posted Late and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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