letter to a troubled mind

Dear mind, 

Every night you cause my face to be washed with tears that taste of salt. 

You throw me in the corners of your chamber like a predator that shreds its prey. 

You’ve lured me into an illusion of safety for so long 

with your soft comforts from which I wake up fearful and alone. 

With a certainty of duality, it is either you or me, it seems. 

But it was never me, for you take over like a greedy communist. 

We are engaged in a fierce battle, and I am losing.  

Yet I know there is one thing that 

keeps us together in this darkness we are both in. 

The name of God 

catches your attention. 

Upon hearing it, you look up with eagerness, 

and for a second, you let go of my heart. 

I can breathe. 

And you dress yourself with chaste garments, 

cover your head with humility and sing in prayer. 

I join in with you, exhausted and pale, and sign with relief. 

God distracts you for a second. 

It is not long and the songs stop and you remember me. 

You find me there again, ready to surrender again to your wicked ways. 

I declare peace. 

I beg you, please stop. 

I am no peril to your grandiose power. 

Dear mind, if you let me be your confidant, I promise you stillness.