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,
non-linear,
unpredictable,
but a course
nonetheless,
that the destination
of the present moment
can be found even in a
mind distended
across generations.
