White Cloaks
White blankets I wear.
Mind as open as my cloak’s color.
The whites of my eyes
have long been stained
outrageous and red.
“I will get through this day,”
many wise voices
have come and said.
The ones in my head.
Give me a white towel
to lay my head down on.
Fill my ears
with an unknown,
meditative song.
Put color in my hands
and I will embrace
what is wrong.
Slow down,
I know this tune.
I’ve known it all along.