isn't it odd
how we can know
human nature
well enough
to write poems
that move others
to tears
yet must hear
the words of others
to cry
alone
.

Be troll assassin;
to be ignored is to die
on the internet.

What
           ((holds)) you
to unyielding self?

Petrified
you stone your sins
and still miss the mark;
attempt to beat soul
into healing.

Fool.

Even this
nascent struggle
to understand
casts another rock.

Would you lobotomize...
****** a stick
into your eye socket
to see more clearly?

The peine forte et dure is
in the resistance;
you know,
and do not accept
grace
in the hands
easing you toward
the gentle current
of Spirit
washing around you.

Why?

Entombed by need
to atone,
you cannot roll
the rock aside alone.

Stop asking for
"more weight",
Giles Corey...
you are a fearsome man
standing upright.

angular
the memories
of the body drawn
by god's own french curve
the soul un(re)touched
by human hardship
the eyes brown warm
acknowledging sin
accepting the sinner
the sacred heart
still wearing
bearing the
crown of ignorance
set upon it
thorny years ago

and still pumping love
into the universal void
free
to any willing to
stand in the rain
and catch it on their tongues

I would not recommend Madness
      

                 distrust runs riot
dissecting myself with wings clipped deemed a flight risk
and I'm naked lay face down on the bed
and I trace tramlines
                                     of forgiveness
because my mauled body pays
penance and I am my own
whipping boy who sees me as
a war zone of self-destruction
an addict to my own sickness
bat **** crazy
                         like those female poets
and their creative madness
                                                 Sexton, Plath, Bishop, Woolf
and Merini and Kane

and I prayed: Lord
forgive me for my sins
I would not recommend
Madness

© Sia Jane