I think it’s okay

pearl crescent butterflies, bees and flies pollinating white heath aster on a September afternoon

Poem:

I think it’s okay to call it madness

(as a mad person, I mean: it’s okay)

Because up is down and down is up,

and the people in charge are trying

so hard to make lies appear as truth

It’s okay to call it madness when

violence is thrown around like a rhetorical football, screen to screen to screen,

when racism and all other forms

of life-crushing fallacies are given

the scaffolds and blunt-force they need

to kill and deceive and destroy, plainer

and plainer to see in the light of day

It’s okay to call it madness when what we need

so desperately as a species is the cool

water of truth and the softness of sun

on September aster, with enough space

in our minds just to see it, but

what we keep seeking and grasping

isn’t truth or silence or a second of peace,

but rather a distraction so strong we can forget

the warnings in our hearts