Crazy Magic

by Trishuwa

This poem, CRAZY MAGIC, speaks to inhabiting self. ‘Crazy’ is not all sparkly. It invites introspection. Doors open to self-knowledge and participation with all life. I contribute my genuine self.

Crazy eyesight is magical.
Like walking around while not moving.

For a long time I thought
everyone had this magic.
(And yes they do.)

Most ignore their crazy part
except on a special day.
A day visited by unbidden memories,
a family of sorts.
They think it’s an illness.

I thought myself ill.
(They’re just thoughts.)
In desperation
I unwrapped myself.
Old parts disentangled and
I studied them, witnessing,
watching and learning.

I made a web in my mind,
The threads of my life
are connected with parts of me.
(although they don’t resemble
their former selves.)

The web is strong.
It can hold all of me.
It’s part of the universe.
It is so strong that it can change
its shape and form.
(And does the more I remember me.)

A year or two ago I set
crazy free to be part
of the web.

But after being crazy for so long
sometimes I miss it and
want to remove crazy from the web,
tangle up all those parts
like they were before.
(Aren’t we odd.)

Crazy likes being part of the web.
We share love.
We share magic.
Our universe twinkles
like the stars.

Journal, Volume 2 Issue 5