Like apprentice sooth-
sayers, we usually go looking
into every little
anemic puddle
until we see
the truth—not
in any of our
warped reflections, but
in what
we've been doing:
closing our eyes,
to lies,
and to
evil—and tragedy
and violence,
and grief
and seeing
absolutely nothing—might be
a relief;
or it might signal
the most consummate
torment
of hell.
But after
a while, opening them
and seeing
those familiar
demons again—that
is the most
exhilarating
kind
of salvation.
