Monday, January 16, 2006

therapy

After a few years,
everything becomes
routine:
we enter the
marine-green room,
and take our self-assigned seats
on the well-worn,
soft, beige sofa.
I usually adjust the
beige pillows
because I like hiding
behind something
(in case things get too intense).

We each hold our cups of tea;
mine, traditional green or some sort of red;
her, peppermint, always peppermint.
We each hold our warm cups,
face forward,
and begin.

There is usually
a fair amount of "catching-up"
depending on how much time has passed.
For some reason,
we, unknowingly,
avoid
discussing "us."

We never come
with a plan in mind.
The only time we had
a plan
was the first time:
the reason why we began.
We never come
with a plan, yet
we never want
to begin, and
once we do
finally start,
we always find
something
to talk about.

Once we start
talking,
we don't stop;
we delve deeper and deeper
into the uncomfortable:
anger,
sadness,
confusion,
helplessness.

We sit,
facing forward,
facing these
uncomforts,
allowing them
to be present,
cognizant, and
slowly,
very slowly
begin shifting them into the realm of
"normal."
We hold onto these emotions,
push them through
our bodies,
and let them out,
to sit with us in the
marine-green room.

Our goal?
We have small goals,
"homework assignments"
designed to help us practice.
At times, our
BIG goal
becomes unclear, but
we still know it
exists.

People often ask,
Why do you go to therapy?
I tell them
every person
should be in therapy.
You don't need to be
broken.
It's like going to the
mind mechanic
for a routine oil change.
You go (every 3,000 miles)
to keep healthy and
running smoothly.
It always amazes me
how we can drive
3,000 miles
or more
in a week
or two.

5 comments:

Shubhodeep said...

at last a longer poem. brilliant!
"It always amazes me
how we can drive
3,000 miles
or more
in a week
or two." great lines, these!

iamnasra said...

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Sue hardy-Dawson said...

I like the formality the sense of almost watching through a window. I think in a way poetry is therapy it's how I exercise the bits I find tough and re visit the things I've loved and wanted

Aelee said...

love it..love it..nice.

andré said...

Nice Poem. Thanks for sharing. I like the ending best.