#19 healing poetry; phone call with a friend

The carpet has made marks on my feet

I’ve been dancing.

You knew I was angry,

And said you’d like to see that side of me,

The truth is, I smile as I think this,

My anger is not what I hide

It’s the entitlement, the shame, the embarrassment, the hurt

That I drag along with it

That’s why I’ve been blasting pop songs

Into my ears whose hearing is already faded

So I can calm enough to be a better friend.

Instantly you asked me why it would make sense for me to have the thing

I felt I had lost

Ever since I knew you, you said, you’ve been trying to move on

A part of me was annoyed.

What you said was so true, and

I wish I were drinking tea with you,

Because you’d probably laugh at my scrunched up nose

Remind me of my goals

And tell me about a new book, that I probably should read soon.

I settle into the conversation,

Feeling a little more human,

A little less ferocious,

Like a wild beast at feeding time.

I laugh about your new roommate,

We talk about cosy murder mysteries

— apparently that’s a genre?–

And I pull my coat on,

Smiling more, believing a little more,

Timing myself, too.

Just a little dancing, a little talking to you

Opened my world, you handed me the rope

And then told me to climb out of this

Metaphorical hole, I had seemingly dragged myself into.

It struck me that a phonecall with a friend,

Is heart medicine.

I ended the call with a giggle,

Trotted out for a walk,

Thinking about all of the healing contained in just one talk.

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