141)
There is something about the sting of purity,
like how the cleaner stings the cut
or like when Mom wipes the cotton
across a scraped knee,
and it burns . . .
or like, when they wiped the cut
I got the first time I had to get stitches –
and I remember, even when I was younger
about how someone told me
sometimes,
it has to hurt, they said
if it’s to heal.
And so, maybe Mother
has to come to set the record straight
and help us heal.
Maybe we need that helpful touch
to soothe the soul
or maybe the Great Nurse from above
needs to solve the pain and hence,
maybe Mother Earth
or the Heavenly one,
as in the Mother of all life
and the Holy one
as in the Mother of all Creation,
the Blessed One among women,
or Blessed like the fruit of Her womb, Jesus,
and blessed, or full of grace, and maybe She
as in the ever-loving Mother
who brought us The Son
as in from The Father
and The Holy Spirit;
maybe She needs to come
to send the sensation of redemption,
or to me, and in my case
as the sinner, now and at the hour of my death
(Amen)
and with that,
maybe She can heal me
or if anything
maybe She can treat my wounds
and thus, I can be healed, or if not….
at least redeemed
and therefore
I can be better
or at least better enough to be with you.
142)
I see the dreams I have, or nightmares,
depending upon the so-called surroundings
or the sign of the times,
or whether I am dreaming
or whether the dream is only short
and ending quickly, or depending upon
whether the wind blows in my favor
or the outcomes,
or depending upon whether
she chooses to look at me
or if she chooses to look away;
I have dreams
or nightmares
depending upon the sway of the land
or the feel from my hand.
The outcome of my dream
is summed by the total
of whether I wake up
or not
to see another sunrise
and, so,
as this morning began
and after the sunrise took place,
I could only think of two things:
You
and what you were doing
or thinking at the same time
when I was thinking of you.
Whether I am determined to heal
or to be damned beyond all measures,
I am here until the end.
Whether I am condemned
like an old, unwanted brownstone
like the ones I saw that time
over by 134th Street and Willis,
hiding away during a different epidemic
back in 1988, running around with a glass demon
that needn’t be mentioned now;
I saw these old buildings
that once housed lives
and they once had meaning,
but when I saw them
they were all standing poorly,
and in structure only
and they stood like the rejected remains
of a forgotten life,
or more, I saw the abandoned buildings
like a ghostly version
of something that once stood as a home,
and whether I am no different
from the condemned and broken structure
or if I am to be saved,
or if salvation has any plans for me
to allow my daily bread, deserved or not;
I am reminded of my daily trespasses,
and while I gripe
as if I have the right to complain
about those who trespassed against me,
either way, I am reminded
clearly and sometimes painfully –
that yes, I am a sinner and, at times,
I am the impurity of man.
I am the banter between my own
good and evil, and I am only a man
moving through the world, traveling
eager and hopeful that perhaps
even the devil in me
can be washed away
or that yes, hopefully,
I can be bathed and cleaned,
or cleansed without ceremony;
I can be baptized
and then purified
and healed
like the wounds from my youth,
only, I am afraid and admittedly
I am petrified of the bath
because
what do I do when I learn how dirty
I was
or,
what do I do if I can’t take the sting?
143)
I know that I can be beautiful too.
I can be colorful and great
and I can be better
than my unfortunate best.
I just want you to love me.
I just want to be okay,
that is if it’s okay with you.
But, in the meantime:
I have no words for the common
or the traditional prayer nor
do I understand or agree
with the limitations of, say,
the House of God,
for if it was said
“In my Father’s house,
there are many rooms.
If it were not so,
would I have told you
that I go there to prepare
a place for you?”
My Father’s house is limitless
and as it was said,
“I have not come for the healthy
but for the sick,”
and if this is so
or if this is true,
then so be it.
And more,
I know who I am
and I know that I am sick,
yet, I am no more sick or well
than
the rest of the world;
and I know the saying
“I have come to give sight
to the blind
and to take from those who can see,”
because, as it was said
“since it was you who can see,
then it is you
who have sinned.”
I know why Twain wrote,
“Man is the only animal that blushes . . .
or needs to.”
Sometimes, I am blind
and sometimes
I can see.
Sometimes,
I’m afraid of the light
because it shines
on the darkness of my deeds
and sometimes
I am afraid to see
because deep down,
I know who I am
and I know
I can be better.
I can be brave
I can be loving
I can be patient
and, above all,
I can be better
than I ever have been.
Ever know that you’re sick
yet,
you’re too afraid to
see the doctor
because you’re afraid
of the healing process?
Back when I was a kid,
I would never tell
how sick I was
because I knew the doctor
would always give me a shot
to make me better,
and man . . .
I hate needles
or the pain from the pinprick.
But it helps
It has to hurt sometimes
so it can heal
just . . .
try not to prolong the suffering too much
so this way,
you can be well
again.
The Written Addiction 