Just a whim — St. Basil the Blessed
That famous cathedral in Moscow is named after St. Basil, a holy fool. Here’s an icon of him. In the U.S. the man would be scorned, ridiculed, and thrown in an asylum. Probably anywhere in the world today he would be treated likewise (even Russia).
Not so in his day.
Then they recognized him for what he was: holy.
Three years ago I
lost my way in the dark of
July, murmuring in sweaty steel
along Industry Way
Why ask O why did she git me again
the devil sparking fire down candied breath
buzzing my branded noodle
and wasting my sacred hearth
Now daring the dead I’ve become a
fleck’s fleck, a rising bent and tortured arrow
begun in the flesh, converted in thought,
of consequence, and import, not pickled nor bought
Three years gone and with that the soma and shame
With no senses left to bark at, and few worlds in the rough
I saw that in the end only He remains
Pulling fools and the Holy Ones up by the scruff