Talking To Myself

Tripping over guilt
how I need to make amends

Meanwhile, charity
leaves me vulnerable

Lose credibility,
momentum

No longer a pick up for others
ditched without a lifeline

***

These are but feelings
I’m more comfy couch
than utility vehicle
and credibility –
well that’s earned

Pick myself up
wade through vulnerability
grateful for giving hands
some amends best left
to the lessons gained
guilt not worth the trouble.

(Much of my poetry is derived from dreamwork. Dreams use exaggeration and humour to evoke understanding. In this poem, I am able to see both at play, leading me to the more empowering response. Thanks for reading. Image my own.)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

29 thoughts on “Talking To Myself

  1. Oh, this stanza really jumped out at me:

    “These are but feelings
    I’m more comfy couch
    than utility vehicle
    and credibility –
    well that’s earned”

    The distinction between “comfy couch” and “utility vehicle” is both jarring and interesting.

    Liked by 1 person

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