Jan 18, 2013

Holding Up


After thinking hard about
the energy crisis,
the economic crisis,
the environmental crisis,
and banging my head against a letter to the editor
for several hours,

she takes my hand
and pulls me
to her massage table.
Has it ready with
a pink sheet,
a green blanket,
a purple pillow.
Tells me to get naked.
Tells me to lay down.

When she gets to my left palm,
she shakes it.
“Relax!
Let me hold your arm.
Let it fall.”

At the arch of my right foot,
again,
“Stop
holding yourself up for me.
Just
relax.”

Hard to stop
the unconscious tensing
around pain.

“Relax,”
over and over.
“Give in.”

Bracing against
what hurts actually
makes hurt hurt more.

She shakes me again.
And again.
And again.

Lying face-down,
trying to let someone who loves me love me,
there’s guilt
and worry
and fear
and a need to

“Sssshhh,”
she tells me again.

And I just can’t.




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