A Farewell to Psychotherapy
Perthmore 2017
On my own again.
Better armed,
It’s true,
Than I ever was before.
Thought I’d be the one
To decide
On the coming,
And the going.
Didn’t take advantage
Quite as much
As I should have.
Too late now.
Find another way.
Or, maybe,
Do it on my own.
I did it on my own,
Before.
I can do it on my own,
Again.
Better armed
Than I ever was before.
Still a lot
I can’t get down to,
Deep in the soul
Of regrets,
And hopes,
And fears.
There is,
After all,
Only so naked
One can get,
Baring the heart
The soul,
The mind,
The inner self,
The fearful self,
The anxious self,
The shameful self.
Too hard to go there
All the way,
In the light of day,
Or even
In the dark of night.
Things one
Doesn’t want to own.
Bring them
To the grave
Let them drift away
In the dust,
And in the dirt.
From the prison
Of the soul,
Let them drift away.
Or carry them,
Forever,
In the darkness,
In the ever after
Darkness,
Of the soul.