Sunday, March 23, 2008

poem, too tired

weeping
(as i do for
various things

when and though
pills i must take
for mental disease
make my mood flat

tearless grief
will not wash itself away
or even clean

though i
will
it)
would probably help

just as would joy
if anything
(short of
any of my
children
visiting)
were to cut through
the dimness
in which
disease and pills
make me live

but there are other extremes
to which
my defective mind
demands
that i go

i can't live
in the midst
of ice and fire

i tried

if i must
live
in this dimness
then i will act
according to
Your will

not mine


and feeling no extremes
except the bad ones
causes me
to be
merely stupid
not evil

and i will be cleansed
not by my tears
but
by Your grace

and i need not feel each
of the world's subtle winks

and i need not feel that Your grace is there
i need only
know it

--
Jonathan

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