Therapeutic
“Dialogue Poetry” Challenge
“As I said, it has been a long time since I’ve talked about these things…”
(Need spinach, eggs, rice, pasta; maybe get some of those garlic Buffalo wings)
“My father was not a very nice man, and I think he is the reason why…”
(Should I call her back? She said that she would get back to me, or at least try)
“My mother was not very affectionate or able to tell me…”
(It has been four months; that’s enough time for her to accept and see)
“My brother was never there; can’t blame him for taking off and getting a life…”
(How was I to know she was already married? Can’t imagine her as a wife)
“And that is it, Doc. I hope that you can help me see a way through this…”
(Finally! I have enough on my plate):
“You are making real progress!”
*
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About the Creator
Kendall Defoe
Teacher, reader, writer, dreamer... I am a college instructor who cannot stop letting his thoughts end up on the page.
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making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskar5 days ago in Feast
Comments (5)
We have much on our minds, indeed!
I'm always so paranoid that that is how my psychiatrist and psychologist feels when I talk to them. Lol
An intriguing back and forth dynamic in this with one side being predominantly internal! Nicely done!
nice
Oh dear! Why we shouldn't always trust a psychologist just because they're a psychologist! Enjoyed this a lot, sir!