March 15, 2011

In the Madhouse

Doctor Gachet's Garden in Auvers

They are quiet now. The walls
inside their minds have fallen.
The hours of understanding
draw near and soon will pass.

Sometimes at night, watching at the window,
it is suddenly all right.
What their hands touch is solid,
and their hearts lift as if in prayer.
Their eyes gaze, relieved,

upon the garden
at last undeformed, and safely
contained within its square,
which in contrast to the uneasy world
keeps being itself and never gets lost.

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  1. 'The uneasy world' seems such an apt description in these turbulent times, Lorenzo.

    Let's hope it 'never gets lost'.

  2. Having just read the most recent report of what is happening in Japan, which sometimes seems to be a metaphor for the onslaught of madness in the world, I am deeply moved by the image of this garden, which is at last "undeformed, and safely contained within its square, which in contrast to the uneasy world keeps being itself and never gets lost."

  3. I'm thinking we're all in one degree of madness or another. Walls. An uneasy world. They rise and fall inside us in constant fluctuation. How any of us stays sane is quite beyond me. Such fragile creatures we are.

    Where is this garden? Is it the still place of the soul, where the soul does not want to move?

    Movement comes from without. We are in constant reaction to what comes to us through our senses. I long for hours of understanding, sometimes even minutes. I have to turn to the garden of rest. I should do it every day, but I don't always, and for that I suffer.

  4. Ohhh I love this blog. I didn't know you had it. Last year I painted/sketched several Van Gogh drawings. I love him! the poetry. This will have to be a weekly stop of mine.

  5. What's provocative to consider is how quickly, when left untended, a garden can become wild, and how, without finding respite, our minds can fill with obsessive thoughts.

    What this poem visualizes for me are all those locked inside and looking out and wondering that sometimes which offers the better circumstance.


"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night."

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Go ahead, bloom recklessly!