Saturday, March 11, 2006


(An oblique lesson in empathy)

You tell me “It can be easily fixed.”
Using the references and rigid tools
Of your own apprenticeship.
Smug and confident.
You say, “It’s all in my book. You can do it.”

First a bit of basic hygiene
An easy discard --
Sensitivities out the window
Emotions on the shelf.

But there is a problem with this.
I am not a simple compilation
Of stick and stone and logic.
I am imagination, creativity,
Artistry, passion and sentiment.

You ask too much.
You expect the impossible.
I cannot do it.

So now you climb on the couch.
“I want to tell you (the Authority in all this),
That you have a problem as well.
That is clouding your judgment.

A problem rutted in logic,
And a fixation on
Your toolbox of pinchers, pliers,
And counseling haywire.
So shelve the logic.
See if you can.

Toss your science of rational thinking,
Consult your conscience.
Examine your soul.
Dig out the tools of tender yielding.
And fix YOUR problem.

“When you’re done we will talk with mutual understanding.”


Blogger bradford said...

I feel an implication that there are recognizable forms of understanding~ the poetic image evolves inclusively allowing for the paradox of equal individuals~ wonderful weaving

5:50 AM  
Blogger Roberta said...

Thanks for those observations bradford. Makes me think that poetry might be a way for me to express myself on days when prose would fill 20 pages. This poem was inspired by my disgust with the 'Dr. Phil show' and his smug cure for everyone's problems - logic and lists and book reads. I wasn't convinced that solution could work for everyone and seriously doubt that he uses that approach for his own problems.

7:24 AM  

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