What the Heart Shall See

Chair With the Wings of a Vulture, 1960, Salvador Dali

 

The Mag #218

 

"When love is not madness, it is not love."

  ~Pedro Calderon de la Barca

 

 

 

 

Perhaps I am not what you think I should be

I am a lover of the unlovable

a hunter of wild things

 

I see the beauty in the mongrel heart

I rip to shreds the rules that

this world imparts

 

I perch upon the unsturdy limb

and caress the bark

whether it break or just bend

 

I drift with ease into captive lands

and fly with a flock

that is ridiculed by man

 

I disregard the laws of earthly eyes

I take chains off the guilty

and adorn what others despise

 

 Perhaps I am crazy with a deadly disease

but what if I hold the cure

to hate's ignorance and grief.

 

 

 

 

Having been labeled a classic enabler at the young age of 23 and made aware of the fact that my "picker is broken", by sponsors and loved ones, I have been all too aware of the fact that my tolerance level of what is acceptable to deal with in boundaries and behavior is bent to a crippling point.  If mental pain could be compared to physical, well then I can withstand a fall from a 20 story building, or walk away from a head on collision and just brush off the dust ready to pull the others out as well.  I am not completely trying to defend my behavior or what I believe about people and situations, but sometimes I feel like the view this world has puts such a major constraint on love and relationships.  I know that you can say a chair is blue even if it is red and that does not make it true, but I don't always regret the crazy things I have done over the years.  Sometimes there are grey areas that just cannot be explained nor made beautiful like a sunrise.  It is just a storm and storms are part of nature and a peice of this life that gives balance.  Maybe my need to nurture beyond the level of what is acceptable does stunt the growth of others along the way, but every facet of this journey does not bring only an over grown waisted garden.  There is a deeper experience that settles beneath the surface.  The roots of love are mighty and have a gentle strength that cannot be measured in the yards and rules of man.  Some sacrifices as painful as they may be, just cannot be a true regret in the end.  They are all tied together like twigs for a bigger place, and the strong twigs support the weak ones within the nest. I guess what I am trying to say is this, comfort is a bird that flies both ways.  It is recieved at the point where it is given.  At least that is how it is for me.  I don't believe that any kind act is ever truly waisted.  It serves a purpose and it plants a seed of hope in someone else's heart, and that is good enough for me.  Yes maybe I am not what this world thinks looks right, but I know what my heart sees, and that is what guides me through each sunny day and each storm.