How I Became a Madman (Prologue)

by Kahlil Gibrand

You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen,—the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives,—I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, “Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.”

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, “He is a madman.” I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, “Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.”

Thus I became a madman.

And I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a Thief in a jail is safe from another thief.

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This poem was received from the Academy of American Poets located in New York City.  I subscribe to their free poem-a-day service, delivered by email. If you’d like to subscribe CLICK HERE.

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On occasion one discovers that one has become a madman/madwoman.  The concept comes from a parable written by Nietzsche in The Gay Science.  The story is of an agitated individual who rushes into the village marketplace in mid morning holding a lit lantern.  He proclaims to everyone within earshot that God is dead.  Even more troubling, he further states  “we have killed him.”  Of course the man is deemed mad by the townspeople, his neighbors.  The madman knows that none of the good people surrounding him believe in God.  He knew that would not give them pause and they’d mock him anyway.  No matter.  Someone has to say it out loud.

Last night I was in company of friends for a holiday house party in Rockford.  It is an honor to be included in this band of people, many of whom are educators.  The food was delectable, and we sang Christmas carols around the grand piano.  Several in the room had fine voices.  We celebrated another Christmas together by giving voice to the tunes enjoyed by many previous generations of Americans.

This was a grand conclusion to my Saturday.  Though as we traveled to our evening of enjoyment, and again afterward as we returned I remembered an earlier moment in the day.

In an email exchange between a friend, I offered that our President occupies the office with less than a majority of citizens voting for him.  Moreover the President’s method of exercising his power involves bombast and habitual lying, much as did Hitler who rose to power with only about a third of the voters approval in the German Wiemar Republic .  My friend was angered by my observation and said it was beneath commenting upon.  Another friend following our email exchange added that my viewpoint was an offensive slur because I “don’t like” the President.

There is a time when someone has to put words to what everyone sees with their eyes and hears with their ears,  — no matter the rationalizations, some seeming to be rational, and others far fetched….

Yes friends:  The emperor has no clothes.  Let’s wake from our deep sleep.  Feel the sun upon your face!