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Crushing Pestle

I take my habits outside
and crush them in the pestle
because they constrain my life
even as I yearn to move beyond them.

I set aflame all my cultural presuppositions
because they prevent me from seeing.

I take each and every thought which in the past
seemed evident
and like Einstein
ask why do I accept these ideas as true?

I am in pursuit of my own genius
and its antecedents.

But my pestle strategy
is seen by all as rebellious
and I am crushed low soon
by church and state.

But visions never die
and in the dead of night
they return
asking why
tossing and turning
in my mind.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
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