Whatever happens from now onward, since I have
been plucked by the world enough times
for the madness vase,
cuckoo nest,
attic where the bats are,
the funny farmyard, to know
that my mind is not running very far
from the window when the lightening comes
to protect my sanity from storms.
It's turning the thunder into grace,
and I also know as well as I know anything
(which is really not knowing at all,
just some semblance of continuity)
that sometimes the break in your heart
is more like the hole in the flute.
Sometimes it's the place
where the music comes through
and it came through for me
when I most needed it to.
