ARTIST. GRIOT. ACTIVIST

An angel with a cloven hoof played a tune with a mouth harp, that sent me waltzing across the floor, stumbling about in search of a crutch. The infantile idealism of youth talked in a wobbly, loose-jointed manner. But I should have known that nothing is safe to him who nothing is sacred.

Behind that toothy smile, was a mind twisted and crooked as sin, drawing me in and almost drowning me, in my foolish naivety. Yet I am no longer a reprobate; I forgive myself generously. But I’m a perpetual dancer, so I shall listen for another tune, and while I eavesdrop on God, I shall purr ever so gently…

Note: As a poet, in composing my oracles I must by-pass the intellect and go straight for the heart. This is not to say that I should repudiate the integrity of my intellect. No. It means that I recognize the inadequacy, at the moment of inspiration, of my stumbling intellectual effort, and, therefore, I choose a more direct approach in representing the subject matter of my contemplation.

Someone asked me recently if I felt a sureness of ability to handle relationships better than I did in the past and without hesitation, I said, “Of course!”

The fact that I am not coupled and haven’t been in a long time is not because of lack of ability. I have been in a period of introspection and healing and have settled into a very comfortable place and I quite like it.

It was not an intentional journey, to get to where I am today. See, I habitually crack my soul open, very easily and absorb people’s energies. And the one thing I have learned is that people are parasitic by nature, or at least the one’s I seem to attract. And so, I withdraw, but not for long. The thing is that in that void, in the alone-ness, I then reach out for another soul and fail, yet again to make contact. And so, I begin to diminish and to turn inwards.

The subsequent reaches become shorter and shorter, and less frequent, as I am starved of communion. I have rationalized each subsequent disappointment and learned to accept it. Of course, that means my gaze steadily turns inward until I gradually suck into myself and no longer reach out. And I am contained within myself. I feed upon my own spirit, cannibalizing my very essential self. Almost like a tasteless meal that keeps the wolf locked in within the gates.  

Now that state of alone-ness wasn’t necessarily lonely. It was tranquillity and healing introspection, and I came away with clarity. It didn’t start that way though. It was a battle, but one fights one’s battles because war is thrust on one, and I must turn from the mass to be able to detect, pin down and define the faint resonance of my spirit’s cry.

But I got to that space and realized something had to give, something had to detonate the rusty bomb that is my own mind. I needed that release of compressed energy…and it came….

©Naan Pocen