Bear Witness

I embrace them all,
this dysfunctional/superfunctioning unit.
Ages range, disabilities vary.
Each one emotionally handicapped,
reality challenged,
wildly brilliant.
Family: their blood flowing through
my veins,
my normal plain-brain.

Ideas.
Ideals.
Ideology
whirls overhead around the room,
bounces wall-to-wall in
Tasmanian Devil Dance.
Squint tight and you see the cloud of dust it stirs.
Speeding thoughts snatched from the air
by schizophrenic uncles
who turn them into parable,
riddles to be asked of
and answered by mute aunts
who simply smile and nod.
Mad paintings painted
by the agoraphobic matriarch.
How would she know
what the sun looks like
reflected on a ponds ripples?
Is this why her birds fly
upside down?

Thorazine Happens.
Lithium Happens.

The wheels have ceased their spinning
and the oils are packed away.
Abandoned, orphaned by manufactured reality,
I am alone in normalcy.

What does the viewer view
when nothing remains
to be seen?

Where does the poet go
when there is nothing left
to rhyme?

(c) Patricia Gomes

                              

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