When the perceiving heart goes haywire
And the circuits are overloaded,
a devil lies behind every bush.
Around every corner, a monster.
Some might mistake
The flashes of light for fireworks-
a display
of colorful brilliance
Indeed, it is short-circuiting,
Snapping and popping
with imaginary grievances
and the unspoken, unspeakable.
A big ball of raw wires
Exposed and vulnerable
To water, to air, to fire.
To earth,
Each threatening to short
the heart out for good.
The buzzing and popping..
Visceral and bone-deep.
Ground me.
Ground me.
Ground you, self.
Ground yourself, self.
But the sentient heart, haywire,
Is drawn to lightening.
It is a lightening rod, in fact,
And will not stop reaching for the thunderclouds.
This was me today, for good or bad….