I was asked last night at a book
Existence-exalting presentation which
Handicap I deemed the most
Eminently enfeebling of all.
A hindrance to a journey we call life
With no havering nor cunctation
Extempore concept conviction
I answered ‘Loss of mind’
To a curious ickle crowd eager to listen
Absorb the produce of mine as if I knew
More than in truth I do
As if its momentary soundness perfused.
I pondered and resolved, albeit I see
Unfathomable beauties scent the myriad
Perfumes of a world taste its fruits
Walk the woods streets to nowhere
My body holds my being in health
A rock the epithet, giving grace for mercies
I do know what it means, to lose
One’s mind how it feels,
To desperately chase a thought
A comforting one in the mist of a storm
A restless ocean made of mental violence
Seeking an amiable suggestion
From within when within silences,
A hint to cease the overwhelming rule
Of emotions ineluctably concocting
Delusions, recalcitrant mind refusing
To cooperate exhausted, a punishment
To persistence repetition of perverse motions
Obstinately unwilling
Despite beseeching to join forces
With a spirit in the power of taunting waves
A torment, drowning in the depths
An abyss of insanity clasping onto liquid
Rationality striving to stay afloat.
I know what it means how it feels
To cry for help from the outside world
Whilst the inside immovable spectates,
The sense of forlornness that pervades
Aware, that if they will help you they will
Lock you up and drug you silencing the last
Audible voices too, muteness enveloping
A fragile being still struggling to endure,
Until mind deems it appropriate to return
Speak the longed craved words
Of strength consolation for despite
It all it considers you nonetheless
A beguilingly wonderful abode.
[Featured photo: A room on the first floor of the former mental hospital of Voghera, Italy, by Marcella Milani]