Therapist

100 Therapist Norman Kreitman The shadow of a leaf falls upon the page and as the breeze moves the shape skitters as if writing my notes. Yes I am listening, really, although what I hear matters much less than what you say. You were supposing That you might be human complete with genitals, greed and enough cowardice to survive a day— just an example, not specially wrong. I agree (with this and more). Yet you imply your history requires a unique and loving repair. I think that where you have come from depends on where you are now, but together we'll make a fable; it seems we can manage a doubtful future provided we have a past. Now you falter. Here we should attend more closely. For though I am slowly learning those things of which it is better to be silent for you perhaps the ache is too raw; we'll honour your reticence, yet mark the place. There is time, oh indeed time will be your rack. In the new quiet you gaze at me directly and I half-expect you to surprise me, saying how you find in the end the personal is not enough. I return your stars, and together we listen to the gathering wind in the boughs outside. ...