I’m Not a Malcontent (a poem)

During winters of discontent
It’s imperative to remember
That I’m not a malcontent
And all I must do is surrender

Surrender to the sky and the sea
And throw my body in the ocean
The water washes over me
The salty air is like a potion

There was a time in my life
When I was in a straight-jacket
And I left the hospital foaming at the mouth
And was met with intolerable colors

Lost in a crowd and sea of sweating bodies
I become one with huddled masses
In cities of torture and sacred ritual
My coping mechanisms are habitual

My father was a saint and a sinner
And the Vatican is currently deciding
Whether or not to give him last rites
The Pope appeared at our doorstep
Covered in rashes and dressed in rags

He kissed our feet and washed them
And my father enjoyed every moment
There was a black rainbow in the sky
And the children screamed bloody murder

We live on the borderline
Our miseries are by design
Yet, we are not resigned
Because we have simple minds
And we enjoy suffering

(Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash)