THE WALK
buddhist counsellor i have come to you/ i turn up
on your doorstep with razor blade cuts covering my
body/ i have left my fact intact/ so that you will
recognise me/ so that you won't forget my human
qualities/ seeing me as the fleshy monster i feel
i have become/ i look past your shoulder as i speak/
i tell you that a great darkness has come/ i tell
you that it has been gathering on the horizon of my
first conscious thought/ that it has been coming
for all of my life/ & how i have spent my adolescence
running/ with sweat/ that has crept down my back
like ice/ & how i have spent my nights running &
screaming in nightmares/ & how my waking hours have
simply been the shades of such nightmares/ yet now
the darkness has surrounded me/ i am now lost within
it/ filled with dread & self loathing/ i am now this
darkness counsellor/ i tell you that i am sorry for
coming/ that i am worth nothing/ that there is no
way out of my situation/ i cannot look at your face/
i stare at the floor of the gompa beaten & estranged/
blood has dribbled down my ankles & is forming pools
at my feet/ my shoes are crimson & my socks are full
of blood/
counsellor you ask me how deep the cuts
are/ & if i need stitching this time/ i say i will
be alright for now/ feeling safer with my clothes
soaking up the blood/ sticking to the moisture of
the wounds/ i stand here expecting help from you/
or expecting you to ring the police/ you do neither/
you walk over to the cushions where your child lies
sleeping/ you place her gently into a harness/ you
get me to help fasten it to your back/ she remains
asleep/ i use my sleeve to wipe away a smear of
blood that has rubbed from my arm onto hers/ i
wonder what she is dreaming/ knowing i was her
age when the darkness had first appeared/ i am
not going to counsel you in here today/ let us
walk awhile you suggest/ counsellor i want to
tell you that i don't think i can make it/ but i
feel obliged to go since your child has been
disturbed from her rest/ & that there is little else
left for me to do/ okay i say/ where are we walking
to?/ it is getting dark outside/ i am fearful/ but
i follow/
just up along the ridge/ you haven't been
there have you?/ it is getting late/ i shake my head/
i will show you what surrounds us as we meditate/
we leave the gompa/ i follow you into the bush/ we
walk briskly for a couple of hours/ mostly uphill
with few words from you/ what have i left to hang
on to?/ you talk of plants & opened pods/ of empty
nests & spiders' webs/ we see a dead calf/ half
hidden by grass/ you show me the edge of the ridge
carpeted by trees/ falling into the deep valley
below/ how they grow there clinging to stone/ i
hear the close movements of emerging animals/ in
the twilight undergrowth/ i follow you counsellor/
not knowing where i am going/ with no words/ no
language of my own/ the blood of my wounds has begun
flowing/ i am limping/ i only hold to the knowledge
that my legs are aching/ throbbing in time with my
step/ soon i hold onto nothing/ is it all uphill from
here?/ i fear i will fall to my death/ but i trust you
counsellor/ in your gentleness you will lead me
somewhere/ i not realising as yet/ that it is my own
tired legs that are taking me there |