The Perfection of Irony: My Parabolic Catalyst


Cozett Contemplates the perfection of irony…via her own poetry.


I am grateful for the storm
assaulting my form
it broke me free from the norm

In the swirling vortex
My cerebral cortex
accessed my predecessors & I began to sing in an unknown tongue
little knowing the history that the future had already sung

Looking down I noticed I’d been lifted
By a black funnel cloud I’d been gifted

Perspectives of all eras at once parallel
I got a taste of heaven because I’d gone through hell

Tornadic twister tickling my toes
Queen of the storms they’re the fodder for my prose

It is a beautifully fantastic agreement we have
These storms work healing for me like a salve

What would destroy others was my resting place nearly all my life
The only bread I ate was the alchemy of strife

My nourishment a decoction of my very bones
Gave me the strength to build with their cast stones
Remineralizing my emotional frame
Taking pride in all my shame

Ironic is I and forever will be
A parabolic conundrum is the mystery of me

A soul tenderized till it turned to dust
My veins filled with watery rust

Some were destined to have their formation begin at the peak
While yet others foundations were steeped in the blackest of bleak

The fonts of my thoughts drip social media like the ink of a quill
My catalystic gift is to write till we heal

Catalyst
Catechist
Paradoxically profound

The gist is in the grist
And its wisdom is compound

Cozett Dunn ©


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