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On My Way to Therapy
A poem of happenstance
the eagle stands guard over a pink-flushed
twist of intestine
holding me steady
with his stern side-eye
a sentinel of Gaia
my boxy mom-car slows to a crawl
stunned into tender reverence
at the carnal beauty of wildness
accidentally played out
on the open road
as regal as a postage stamp
white head held high
squared-off brow in profile
I ogle him with the slack jaw of a tourist
and he pulls me out of the matrix
out of my made-up daily importance
derails me from the chase for completion
his presence today is proof that I am living
my myriad of stress-inducing notifications
and checklist of worries
are no longer the realest things in the world
the glistening carcass
marking the bloody edge of anxiety
Talk therapy is wonderful — and important, and often life-changing. In my work as a Life…
