Last Friday I nearly flooded my EMDR therapist’s office with tears. The grief was so profound I struggled to function and use the therapy time in a productive manor. I told him my grief tank was full and overflowing. He suggested that I write poetry to relieve some of the intense pressure I was feeling – just one or two line sentences or phrases to express how I feel. The following was all I could come up with:

“I feel like…

A kerosene lamp – filled to the max with just a tiny flame burning wick

Enough power to burn up the house held inside w/ just the tip of the wick burning.————————————-

A pot so drained of emotion that it’s turned inside-out.

I guess that’s what the pills do to me. ————————-

Dear God, Help!”

It took me two days to write just those few lines, but I do believe it did help. I printed out a copy to take with me to my Christian counselor when I met with her today. Her response amazed me. She shook her head a little as said,” Profound. This is really profound.”

Profound? Really? I found them to be hardly adequate and severely lacking. The depth of my grief was evident in the simplicity of these expressions, or so it seemed to me.

We spoke more about how poetry naturally flows from me and the lack of effort it takes for me may cause me to under estimate the quality of what I write. A little later in the session we were discussing how I can use poetry to “die well” with my dad ( the therapist’s term for having no unresolved issues or unexpressed emotions between myself and my father as his death is rapidly approaching). I realized I had not done so with my mother and have grieved deeply over my mother’s death as a result of not “dieing well” with her. However, I have used poetry after the fact to bring about healing over the years.

So I plan to work on something to share with my father when I go to visit him in the hospital next time. Hopefully I will be able to accomplish the task that quickly. I will most likely share it with you all as well.