The Road To Wellness
Loving my hands more and more; the sick and lonely eyes of a hero in transition lie spellbound by the magic circus of Self Love, I have been suicidal, tortured by thoughts and voices; now is the turning point, my release from the hospital is imminent, I am learning tool, tools to deal with the illusions of my own mind presents to me. Reality is better than the tortured ego of the past, I am walking on a beach that is perfectly fit around my bare-feet, my hands are in my pockets, and I am singing to the clouds, inside the social maze we learn how to bum cigarettes, talk of sad times and happy places, smell our feet, chew bubble-gum, trade handshakes for bags of pop-corn, talking to the counselor and trading smiles with the walls; there is only the wall of doubt that hangs me up, to have faith is to be in a restful state of mind; obviously, I am a perfectionist, and doubt clings to me resolutely, but my passion is guided by my understanding, my fingers fit just so on the keys of my typewriter, there is a place for everything, truth, here I have lived with sick people, sick in all ways; polluted strains of logic distill in the air like sad exorcisms of the bright future, sunlight on my shoulders and I dance, becoming one with my craft, addicted to my madness only by the strength that controls it, standing alone in the darkness, watching the sky turn across the horizon, knowing only my state of mind is subjected to a vision of dusk and a World waiting, on the road to wellness, standing by the well of understanding.
Reprinted by kind permission of the Regents of the University of California,
Bancroft Library, Berkeley. Gift of Diane Walker Murray