in a fashion of caring

These days I see people in a sacred space who are tragically depressed, like they can hardly get themselves out of the house and make it to session. I see people who are in abusive relationships and sometimes with themselves. I see myself seeing people and I don't know how to help. All the stuff they taught me not always on the ready. What ends up happening is I help create the sacred space in which I see them, and we meet there, and I invite them there again, and I'm not always making any money cuz I volunteer, too, so I may be tired and permanently jetlagged by my nightshift, and I'm sure they see me tired and tryin to pay close attention cuz I care, and hopefully, just hopefully, they will realize they are worth caring for and start to care for themselves a little more, too, but even if they don't, well that's okay, too.

the blue corner

i trick myself into believing my special brand of suffering should be cast out for all to nibble on, and then i pull the hook into your lip so you bleed into the ocean like i do. not that misery loves company any more or less than joyfulness. all our feelings love companions. when walking into a coffeehouse sad after some dreadful news, you must be miles away when you greet me with smiles. unlikely i will stop and talk to you, for the convincing would be hard.  i would rather sit at that table in the corner beside the recently widowed. we can emanate blue from there.