After René Magritte’s The Healer (Le Thérapeute) (1967)
I want to reveal who I am on the inside,
But I am too tired to explain the cage.
Everything hurts less when I’m unknowable.
Two doves bless my body with white light
But once there was more time to shine.
I’m poor at small talk,
But I’ve walked a long way here.
I am the healer by the sea
I take a seat when someone is suffering.
It is hard to carry a cage,
But where would the pain go?
A body is only as useful as its secrets,
And the sky is a secret I keep
For the both of us
until the anatomy of melancholy
is nothing more than a curtain calling
to be pushed aside,
like the wings of sadness crashing
each sick and sadly suffering someone
into the seaside where I am now sitting.