yes, forlorn, i hear you. and i am on your side, if i am understanding you, that they (t) are always on our mind, things she would be proud of me for doing, things she wouldn't. seems like a mom and child, in the poem, and i just assume that one day we will not need to hide behind our t's comforting acceptance and encouragement to come out and play. mine told me i play cat and mouse, or 'catch me if you can' with her, whenever she gets close to something i am not ready to go to (which is EVERYTHING), i hid, distract, pooh pooh, change the subject, or, most seriously, leave my body. the later she got to last time, and i got to tell you, leaving my body, but hearing what she was saying, felt, somewhat, healing. she carried the conversation, i flowed with her to the point of a comfortable place of leaving my body, and she carefully flowed me back. felt scary but safe, idk, she may just be GOOD?? she took me there, showed me around, described acurately what i was feeling, didn't make me talk, i felt comfortable going there with her, and that she was there and with me and safe and warm and ok and she took me right back out, i almost wanted to stay in there longer, in that previously unsafe haunted place of being that child that she says i am SO afraid of.

dang, she is poetry at times, and i must say, skilled at her craft. and i think alot of her and about her, but yes, am still PISSED she thought i was feeing sorry for myself....don't they know without that, they would have no profession!! (i jest!) mmmmmm, feeling warm. jill

Hello all it's been awhile. This is my first post in the poetry thread, so please be kind and forgiving.

6:45am

Hello there I’m Tuesday, 6:45am
Half-awake, half-dying
Terrified to let you in

Hello therapist I’m broken
My walls are crumbling down
Here’s my sacred stash of secrets
Will you keep them safe and sound?

There are times I want to touch you
But don’t you dare touch me
I’m disgusting and contagious
There’s a disease inside of me

Hello there I’m Kathy
I’m 9 years old again
Go away don’t touch me
On second thought; lean in

Hello David I’m Kate
I’m afraid we haven’t met
I’ve been betrayed before
So I’m loath to trust you yet

Hello there I’m Friday, 6:45am
I’m weary from the week
Relieved to see your face again

Hello there I’m next week
Can’t believe you stuck around
I may act like I don’t need you
But please don’t let me down

See I’m just this little girl here
Not the grown-up that I am
I suppose that’s why I feel
I’m only 6:45am

quote:

Hello there I’m Kathy
I’m 9 years old again
Go away don’t touch me
On second thought; lean in

Hello David I’m Kate
I’m afraid we haven’t met
I’ve been betrayed before
So I’m loath to trust you yet

Hi WLOH, it is nice to see you here posting again. How are you doing?

I really liked your poem and those lines I quoted above really resonated with me and my new T. Having been betrayed by my oldT makes it so hard to trust anyone else. It's very scary. And what you wrote about "lean in"... well my T did that just this week when I was in a lot of pain. Instead of backing away from it or me he leaned in and moved his chair towards me. That was HUGE.

Thanks for the poem. I enjoyed it.

TN

One of the great poems:

AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE CHAPTERS
1.


1. I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the pavement.
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am hopeless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.


2. I walk down the street.
there is a deep hole in the pavement.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I'm in the same place.
But it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.


3. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the pavement.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.


4. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the pavement.
I walk around it.

5. I walk down another street.



PORTIA NELSON

From “There's a hole in my pavement: the romance of self discovery”, by Portia Nelson, Beyond Words Publishing Company, 1994

Another of my favourites"

LETTER TO A YOUNG POET



We have no reason to harbour any mistrust against our world,
for it is not against us.
If it has terrors, they are our terrors.
If it has abysses, these abysses belong to us.
If there are dangers, we must try to love them,
and if only we could arrange our lives,
in accordance with the principle that tells us
that we must always trust in the difficulties,
then what now appears to us to be alien
will become our most intimate and trusted experience.


How could we forget those ancient myths
that stand at the beginning of all races -
the myths of dragons that at the last moment are transformed into princesses?
Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are only princesses
waiting for us to act, just once,
with beauty and courage.
Perhaps everything that frightens us is,
in its deepest essence,
something helpless that wants our love.

So you must not be frightened if a sadness rises before you
larger than any you've ever seen.
If an anxiety like light and cloud shadows
moves over your hands and everything you do.
Life has not forgotten you.
It holds you in its hands and will not let you fall.
Why do you want to shut out of your life
any uneasiness, any miseries, or any depression?
After all, you do not know what work these conditions are doing inside of you.



RAINER, MARIA RILKE



From “Letters to a Young Poet”, translated by Reginald Snell, in Rilke Poems, Everman's Library, 1996

a very inspiring thread...

here's a poem i wrote a while ago, but funnily enough this is where i'm still at and struggling with right now...


hateful hate

don't punish me no more
selling my soul like a fucking whore!
don't think you can forget
i was there with you when i died
hiding from your tears, oh i know you tried...

don't be angry with me no more,
i've done everything and nothing at all!
when will this boiling stillness burst?
i am full, i am full, please kill my thirst!
i can't let go of the hate,
it's all that stands between the truth
and everything else fake.

a poem with no rhythm is dead
just like the life switch in my head...


puppet

WLOH: Thank you for sharing that. It was really moving.

Sadly: Thanks for sharing those poems.

Puppet: Thanks for sharing your poem. That was so moving and raw. I'm sorry you are still struggling.

I've written some poetry, but mine is based on certain memories and could be triggering so I won't post here.