To The People I met in Therapy

We gather around our pain,

and the struggles that we share,

at a table of vulnerability,

wounds aching, hearts bare.

.

I’m sorry for those who got here late,

and for those who’ve tried before,

but despite it all, we cling to hope,

longing for something more.

.

I thought I’d feel competitive, and that

it would feed my disease’s fight,

but why would we compete,

to be a winner without light.

.

Our voices might be different,

but our humanity is not,

I know we struggle with identity as if,

it’s something we forgot.

.

But I don’t see a diagnosis,

when I look across the table,

instead I see a soldier –

ready,

willing,

able.

.

I feel a sense of understanding and

twisted camaraderie that fills the air,

the kind that’s forged in battle against

an enemy that doesn’t play fair.

.

Your eyes reflect the fear in my own, but

I also sense a courage, that maybe you can’t see,

Yes, there’s pain, but there’s also hope,

and I’m grateful you shared some with me.

.

Our stories may be different,

but I know not to compare,

as we all try to manage our pain,

on our journey of repair.


Possibilities

2 thoughts on “To The People I met in Therapy

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