Bonnie Thurston
“You were within me but I was outside.”
—St. Augustine
You. Yes, you, crazy
and clever enough
to read poetry,
who know obliquely
the way is not charted
by raucous externals
which would,
if they could,
distract to perdition,
make us strangers
to ourselves,
to the exotic lands
of our interior world
which no one else maps,
where the cloying voice
of society’s GPS
is permanently stilled.
Where do you turn
to find coordinates?
Try your riven heart.
Wounds point the way.
The water and blood
of every heart is sacred.
