My Black Box and Fine Lines
The never-ending process of storing
Information and either accepting the
War or setting it aside in my black box,
Where anything can enter but nothing
Comes out of it without permission, so
I can live a normal life, functional
Among my friends and family,
Also rules of fine lines
That I seemed to cross during the
War, I take note and imprint them
On my mind always—
For the next gallery of lights.
There are always a few choices
Where boundaries seem key,
Whether to go on living
Or be incited to maddening anger,
Whether to take the road further
To a place where only I find
Myself abducted or raped,
Whether to trust fallibly the
Care of a doctor, and whether
To listen to my heavy heart or one
Of another.
Life goes on, they say.
Life goes on, I say,
So long as I process and keep my
Black box beside me,
So long as I learn which lines
Not to cross and imprint them
On my heart forever.
Then I can trust even myself.
I’ll marry, maybe,
And have kids, maybe,
And even be able to keep up
My artwork.
Over the years, I can look back
And see improvements and sometimes
Even look forward to another
Episode, in wait, ready with
My black box and fine lines,
Ready for triumph and eventual
Victory.
I’m no curious cat, as they say,
But a chooser among battles,
Ready for the war that I
Must engage in from time to time.
by Michelle Nicole Murphy
Related story - Book, "My Black Box: Flights of Bipolar, A Memoir by Michelle Murphy
Related philosophy - The Black Box Philosophy
Back to Poetry Menu
Information and either accepting the
War or setting it aside in my black box,
Where anything can enter but nothing
Comes out of it without permission, so
I can live a normal life, functional
Among my friends and family,
Also rules of fine lines
That I seemed to cross during the
War, I take note and imprint them
On my mind always—
For the next gallery of lights.
There are always a few choices
Where boundaries seem key,
Whether to go on living
Or be incited to maddening anger,
Whether to take the road further
To a place where only I find
Myself abducted or raped,
Whether to trust fallibly the
Care of a doctor, and whether
To listen to my heavy heart or one
Of another.
Life goes on, they say.
Life goes on, I say,
So long as I process and keep my
Black box beside me,
So long as I learn which lines
Not to cross and imprint them
On my heart forever.
Then I can trust even myself.
I’ll marry, maybe,
And have kids, maybe,
And even be able to keep up
My artwork.
Over the years, I can look back
And see improvements and sometimes
Even look forward to another
Episode, in wait, ready with
My black box and fine lines,
Ready for triumph and eventual
Victory.
I’m no curious cat, as they say,
But a chooser among battles,
Ready for the war that I
Must engage in from time to time.
by Michelle Nicole Murphy
Related story - Book, "My Black Box: Flights of Bipolar, A Memoir by Michelle Murphy
Related philosophy - The Black Box Philosophy
Back to Poetry Menu