Tag: therapy

Poems

Scent Of An Oak

The scent of an oak
can heal you.
It’s presence is now and forever.
The time of a tree
stops and continues.
Ways that we mostly cannot be
though the universe curls its mystery
all around and all around us.
Weep, weep, weep,
eternally child-like human.
Kiss the hard, tight bark with
soft lips and
touch the trunk with
tender hands fated to age.
Outliving the creatures of
the forest,
she breathes so much slower
but deeply gives her respirations
to all those kinds of Earthlings,
the kind and the despots,
taking their spirits
up to her tops
and lifting them to the winds
of the sun,
whether in hope, metaphysics,
or death,
sail them on to white-light and
never-ending kingdoms.

The scent of an oak
can heal you.

So breathe, breathe, breathe,
kiss her hard, tight bark.

Poems

The Best Therapy

The best therapy I’ve received
all year
was laying on a hard wooden floor
using a plush toy rainbow bunny rabbit
as a pillow
while a three year old girl
and a five year old girl
drifted off to sleep with soft gentle breaths
because they were no longer scared
because I lay on that hard wooden floor
protecting them.
Something about their pure, deep breaths
was life affirming,
very much like an elixir.
All the things they’ll face in life,
yet I sat their gently with those breaths,
knowing
we all grow and die, time passes
and
this soft breathing of children into sleep
somehow gave me soul-soothing courage.

Poems

M.I.N.E.

We never walk at sundown.

We could live better on this planet.

You hold your dark eyes
and I hold mine too.

If everyone stays inside their house
and guards their possessions
then we’ll call this planet “Earth”.

You have a forehead made of stone.
I remember the scent of stone.

A solar star burns
and
mortals go capturing its light,

but we could live better on this planet

so I guess
you’ll have your possessions
and I’ll have mine.

 

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

image poem

When I Face The Toothbrush

When I face the toothbrush
I am scared.
Scared that I might feel uncomfortable
and choke on my tongue,
like the time when I was 22 years old
and drove down the highway alone
and choked on my tongue
in the middle of an anxiety attack
and had to grab hold of my tongue
with my hand so I wouldn’t swallow it.
Scared that this might all happen again,
that I might freak out in the middle of a meeting
and run out of the room crying.

These are the things that grown men do.

These are not the things that grown men do.

New Age religions
and business success books
teach me to never consider myself
with flaws or weaknesses,
to only accept my greatness,
never my vulnerabilities,
and never to admit to these.
Never give another person power,
control the power,
control situations,
control others.
Create your reality.
Be a white man.

I will go on vacation
to Playa del Carmen in May.
The skies will be warm and perfectly blue.
The scents of blooming flowers
and freshly made tortillas
come in through the windows.
The world will be what I want it to be.
Suffering doesn’t exist.
Who suffers?
Stop crying.
Get up and get out of here.