The Joy of Madness

Poem for Wendy

Were you aware, were you awake
did you realize
that although you were poor
happiness is free?
You were tangled up in others
and forgot what you once knew:
your love gave invisible acts of power.
Who knows what was in
your secret book of wishes.
Yours was no mediocre madness;
you found no healing tonics here;
and now you know lonely runs both ways.
When they found you,
your lips were as white as wine.
Who were you really, wanderer?