Poem to My Empty Therapy Office – COVID-19
Now I come by just to tend
the spiders. I clear the cobwebs,
make way for new ones.
Bamboo, lucky trees, I fill water
just above the pebbles, grey and taupe,
as the long legs settle back into the corners,
having watched me sweep from behind
books, between pages of feelings
There are no stories being told here
now. No longing hearts sing to the walls
or the books or the spiders. The light
comes through shuttered blinds,
raining dots over the children’s games,
peeking through remnants of laughter
and tears, hugs and hope. The mending of
a thousand tiny cuts.
Not too long now.
Not too long till the stories return,
till the warmth returns, the sun
beaming full on. Not too long now
till my heart connects to yours in the
same space, no screen between souls.
Tales of both pain and power will soon fall
on a hundred little ears, perched
on the white molding.