Poem of the Day - Therapy

April 12 Short again, today. Xander spent the night and I worked early this morning, so fatigue and burning eyes are my afternoon tea. I’ve done some sketching earlier but turn to an older poem for today’s entry. It’s a poem written during a darker time. I can’t help thinking about the darker moments in my life, still garnering their lessons and comparing them to now. It does no good to deny they happened. It gives perspective to say others suffered much darker times than I ever have, but the truth is that when I was going through them, I could not see past them. This poem reflects that. That, and the fact that help is always there, just not immediately effective. /THERAPY /Sitting in an office, waiting, /like a corn fed box of snails. /I’ve gone postal to myself, /seismic meltdown, /emotional tsunami crashing. /I need help. Time. Peace. /I catch them in snippets, but /each time I grasp one in sweaty hands, /it slips away again, and life /intrudes.