Mad Dance

They who dance are thought mad by those who hear not the music. – 1927

The struggle to understand, to be understood.
Comes down to such strange things.
Brain wires, glasses of perception, experiences lived
Culture and education, acceptance of what you can’t
understand but can sense a connection to.

Arguing about the shades of a blue pen
Seems mad, almost without purpose
But when blue is your world the shades matter
When blue is the color you see
understanding blues is a big deal.

Struggling to put complex feelings into words
A poetic crisis of faith, a true crisis of life
When those feelings demand their words
be spoken, be understood the world can crash
down and become chaos in the places misunderstood.

Knowing what you know, without words to say
Feeling the feelings large and ravenous
Speaking them to be hushed, quieted by
Those who can’t hear the music you
are compelled to dance to

Fighting so hard for the words to be not heard
but understood, accepted, with their feelings
fraught with emotion, tension, hurt and love
To see them swatted away with platitudes
and shrugs because you are being TOO MUCH

If you hear the music – DANCE!
If you feel the words – speak Poet, SPEAK!
If your heart hurts let the tears FALL.
If they don’t want to understand
Say a prayer and walk away.

It’s no fault of yours that your brain
Was wired different from the start
Neither is it theirs that they don’t see
the world as you hear it, sense it.
The pen is still blue – start there.

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