How Is it That a Heart Still Awakens
When every admonition of the tiny mind screams out
Bar the doors,
when the possibilities of addiction and
Its misdirected quietudes are no farther away than the
Remote buttons or the
convenient screw tops on wine
Bottles or the smaller and smaller slabs and boxes that
Lash us to the
taskmaster we secretly worship before
Any other god, when
the Goddess has appeared to us
In so many forms only to discover the shadow that she
Pulls along right behind her holds so many horrible
Errors of other
childhoods that we wish we had not
Been born, when the rains fail and the neighboring
Tribes thunder in, when
fire comes out of the sky at
Night without warning because someone in the house
Was marked on a secret
list, when the illnesses borne
Of dopamine in its excesses or in its shortfalls or of a
Rogue virus no one
heard of, or another toxic entity
We did not see coming wake us in the night pushing
Against the weight of
the pharmaceutical industry for
The one thing that will permit
both child and parents
To find sleep so
long denied, when secret contracts we
Signed long before birth have bound us to patterns that
Others made, learning suddenly we were following the
Wrong god home,
and all the gates swing shut in one
Last groping for survival, when even the one we were
Awaiting all this time finds no one home when they
Finally knock at the
door, when by some grace the
Winds die down and a peace enters in, how then a
Heart so brutalized can
still awaken, each must ask.
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