My Mental Citadel

*
A fanatic Sufi poet, a thwarted nightclub
musician, got hold of the electric piano in
church today, crooning love songs to the
Lord, playing Oh When The Saints Come
Marching In so loud I had to shout to hear
myself

The overpowering volume hurt my ears, your
words reverberating in my mind ‘You Are Too
Damn Sensitive’ - I looked at the members of
my clan sitting so beautifully clad with babies
in diaphanous tutus to be baptized, proud of
this sociological phenomenon

When the Sufi crooner stopped, the pastor in cold
scholarship mode instructed us Psalm One teaches
we should only talk with those filled with piety and un-
worldly joy, only meditate on God’s Law, I thought of
the cathedral in my mind where all my thoughts and
dreams are alive

Of your shock on discovering all the fairy tales, magic
shows, New Age and religious books in my head, your
kind concern for me as a victim of innocence, I showed
you the violent scenes of my former life, the reason
for my choosing wonderment and innocence
in an act of faith

I feared you would destroy my mental citadel, but
you understood, put a protective spell around the
fantasies that saved me from drowning in a sea of
ignorance, promising that the symbols I employed
to combat alienation and hostility would always
be safe with you

I was overjoyed, the cosmic drama perpetuated in
religion as symbol of inner truth is safe, you do not
object to the alternative universes constructed by
Terry Pratchett, Jane Roberts and Bible Code
prophets, you know my loyalty to you as an
example of sweet reality

Is strengthened by a myriad dreams, I honour all
I come across, I admire your devotion to the
cause of poetry as powerful words to
energize and inspire people, making
them rejoice in sound…
*