Poem Therapy: at 2:30 P.M. January 6, 2011 - Enough by Jeffrey Harrison

Enough
Jeffrey Harrison

It's a gift, this cloudless November morning
warm enough for you to walk without a jacket
along your favorite path. The rhythmic shushing
of your feet through fallen leaves should be
enough to quiet the mind, so it surprises you
when you catch yourself telling off your boss
for a decade of accumulated injustices,
all the things you've never said circling inside you.

It's the rising wind that pulls you out of it,
and you look up to see a cloud of leaves
swirling in sunlight, flickering against the blue
and rising above the treetops, as if the whole day
were sighing, Let it go, let it go,
for this moment at least, let it all go.

I believe today is more psychic poetry than poem therapy. This poem captures the moment exact, so much so, I am inspired to write a few lines of my own.

Stalemate
Danna

Winter sun glints off crusted snow,
the air is sharp and threatening
as an unsheathed knife,
let this go.

A steady hiss emerges as the day decompresses,
let it go. The sky presents
its frigid blue shoulder,
let it go. An unforgiving wind
soon follows,
let it go.

The words, all the words unsaid,
harbor like fish under ice,
slowly rising to the surface,
for now, let them sink
and swirl away into the dark current,
let them go.