Omnipotent Fool. {poetry}


I crave.

The breaking of illusions .
Freedom from the desire to be
The absence of pretense.
Utter stillness.

I want.

To become unmoored.
To destroy the walls of this box.
To remember.
To balance.
To fail.
To shed this cultural identity
which seeks to inhibit me and
put me in my Place.

I need.

To bow deeply before the
Divinity in me and
in you.
To intimately know
my own power.
A guttural mourning of the Sacred.
A raucous celebration of the profane.

I am.

A wounded interstellar traveler.
A rebellion — haphazardly contained.
A prismatic, swirling mass.
The Ouroboros.

The sound of glaciers becoming the sea.
The elevated Archetypes — all of them —
A thousand superstitions distilled
and cosmically aware.

The chaos of creation.
The alchemy of dissolution.
A star — blinding and burning
in its death
An orgiastic playground of pleasure and vice.

My place is all places.
I am not your savior.
Or the dressing
for your wound.

I am omnipotent.
I am the fool.

I crave — I want — I need.
I am.



wp-content-uploads-2014-12-screen-shot-2014-12-12-at-8.04.09-am-100x148Elizabeth McDonald is an Irish-Indian St. Louis native. She is a writing and creating, chicken-keeping, fire-breathing, river-pirate gypsy mama. She gets quieter as she ages because she realized there’s sense in silence. But she also gets more bold and unapologetic.


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