Standing in half-light
of a sanatorium,
covering my eyes with
my palms, I look behind.
Thinking of relation, of
connectivity between love
and hate, war and peace in my
tumultuous mind―
asking to be relieved now
of the chained body. Fidelity
of being was done, leaving my
vocabulary unwritten.
No wisdom was needed now.
The circular presence of knife
and seers was sufficient. I
will not seek your religion.
Believing my inside, outside
of a child face.