I wear the garments of past transgressions
over wounds that festered
but still somehow healed,
covering recent scabs and scratches,
battle-scars that I no longer wear proudly.
I wear the garments proudly.
Reminding me that love permeates even madness,
that even the oozing of raged-filled thoughts
can be halted,
that disparate parts of oneself can be galvanized,
inspired to converse, to coalesce,
that even in what appears as utter chaos
one can chart a course,
but a course nonetheless,
that the destination of the present moment
can be found even in a mind distendedacross generations.