Therapy feels like wet clay, verda?
On hot skin
I see a girl in my neighborhood cycle past
she’s around 12, her legs thin and long like a colts
stringy hair and teeth too big for her mouth
riding up the hill, as if the sun isn’t hot and
she’s got the world by the balls
I sit in my comfortable chair, watching my client
who fidgets with the many rings on her fingers
she wants to say things, she can’t yet say out loud
she tells me, most therapists don’t care, worth a damn
only pick up the check
a little like my first husband, she smirks
a little like everyone, I think
I recall being young and riding up hills
before feeling old before your time, because your body betrays you
of what we lose, when we don’t have time to notice
because we’re doing our own version of trying to surmount hills
my client is losing her marriage, and she’s relieved
she wants to begin over, peal her skin off, molt and take wing
I urge her to find the courage
of the 12 year old
to keep going, even when hard sun pelts down
and you think you can’t take another rebuff
she’s got a beautiful smile, her husband stopped noticing years ago
it felt like a wound in her psyche, a knife sticking out of her chest
as she walked to get coffee at the corner, in the mornings
sometimes I would wonder, why no-one commented on
the woman walking around, with the knife in her chest, she said
I think of how many of us exist, with giant gaping wounds
either unnoticed by others, or disguised, out of misplaced shame
I think of how, sometimes, I reach out
with feeling in my eyes and they turn away
I don’t know whether it’s out of fear, or apathy
if they have grown skin over their heart muscle
and it’s no longer able to respond, to translate
warmth into affection and back again.
This world is a cold world, she says
I remind her, to start with herself
be what you want to experience, I say
wondering if that actually ever works
if it’s just another version of; practice what you preach
told by clergy who sodomized children
this ceaseless hypocrisy of what we want, versus the rules we impose
how many times I have tried to get close to someone
only to regret the effort, the futility of rebuke
another cold shoulder in a disaffected world
but if we don’t try, we have even less
my grandmother would tell me
and nothing comes from nothing
what did she wish for?
I wish for hope, to hope for … something again
to believe it’s not over yet
dispel disappointment a few hours and
dive into cream.
I tell my client to keep going forward
like she has any choice, like any of us do
because we’re all just a work in progress
even if they say potential isn’t applicable after 30
those of us who think we aren’t imperfect
floundering fish out of water, trying to find the sea
they’re probably the ones with cold eyes
who turn away when she smiles
when she looks like the 12 year old girl again
with a gap in her front teeth and reddened cheeks
who hasn’t met her disinterested husband yet
and believes in potential and futures
not those cold eyed people, who turn away when she cries
because it’s easier than giving a damn
which can be hard, especially on days
you don’t have any good answers
but still
still, you damn well
try
to eek some empathy
from the gristle of your soul
or else from
the glimmer of
metal, showing through
your bloodless blouse
As long as we choose, we continue to have the potential for the infinite. Age is not the defining factor.
Agreed.
I always feel as if the row is a long one to hoe for many of us . . . Are we really strong enough to exert that much energy? I hope your client is.
I felt this poem, maybe a little too much.
“I urge her to find the courage
of the 12 year old”
Something we all need! Great lines, Candy! 🙂
When we allow ourselves to be conscious of the knife in our own chest, it becomes impossible not to see the ones in others (and the reverse may be just as true). Then courage is called to recognize the essence, that it is all one knife and one chest, the root of compassion, to feel and act, and to let them see ours.
I love the hard-won wisdom in this Candice. There are so many days when good answers fail to materialise, and all that remains is the determination to put one foot in front of another. Please keep tapping into your muse.
Here was I, thinking this is a display of the empathy I would have expected, and then I come to “eek some empathy”. Wow
Dear Kevin, thank you so much. I like the idea of ‘hard won wisdom’ very much !! Thank you dear one xo
Very true dearest Bob.
We do! I think you have it! That and the amazing hair – yup – covered in WIN
I appreciate you more than mere words can convey –
and I happen to agree with you 100 percent my friend
💙
I hope I spelt it right. Although my english spelling is not as bad as my french. 😉