“The Broken Become Wise” by Christina Knowles

Pagan symbol

“The Broken Become Wise”

Images of the long forgotten

Dance across closed eyes

A smoldering cauldron of misbegotten

Tries; faltering, I surmise

Too late the uncommon

Value of dark and stormy skies

The knowledge of the sodden

Soul; the broken become wise

Straining, I see through the mist of fear

The wisdom of the ancient Druid

Seer; her smile is cavalier

My dread is transmuted

Bravely, I appear

Sorrow, as a weed uprooted

Destiny—no mere

List so easily permuted

I, alone, discern

The path of the Ancients

The Celtic sojourn learn

Deafened to mendacious

Guides, I finally adjourn

Rumination’s patience

Prophetic dreams return

Asleep, the mind sagacious

Awakened, my pilgrimage is clear

Avoiding the spiritually reputed

Secluded, I pioneer

The skeptic, conduits refuted

Divining the allelic, finally truth is near

Facts undisputed

Though the Romantic’s quest’s sincere

Morosely, true believers brooded

Still, images of the long forgotten rise

But the broken become wise

And healed, the myth, decries.

—Christina Knowles

Free by Christina Knowles

Free (#2, Letting Go)

 

Letting go

I let myself be who I am

Wandering alone through a jungle

Of contradictory claims

The skeptic

Ye of little faith

Actually none

Bouncing from one fiction to another

Grasping at scrawny tree limbs

Too dry and brittle to hold the weight of inspection

Of critical scrutiny

I hung on too long

Even while twigs snapped at a touch

Letting go

I should have done it long ago

Free-falling, uninjured

Floating peacefully on the unknown

It’s never too soon to be free

At last, free to live

The reality, a genuine life

On undiscovered details

Letting go

Of the need to know

Content

Free from the fairy tale

The false hope

Hope that meant nothing

More than an interesting dream

An afternoon of storytelling

An evening of Shakespeare

Both tragic and comedic

An epic battle between good and evil

Only to realize there is no difference

According to this dramatist

Letting go

And realizing the freedom

The relief

The ability to breathe deeply

Of the infinite, if only for a moment

A blip on the radar of the universe

A breath so pure and clean

I’d never miss the toxic perfume of lies

So I exhale completely

Letting go—Christina Knowles

 

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