ADOLESCENT COUNSELLING

EACH OTHERS OPPOSITE

It’s December. And through my glass 
door I see a rare foxglove 
bloom. In erratic times,

 

pink tubular bells dance 
in the shadow of death, 
the last fallen leaves.

 

Trees, naked, stretch long 
Kali arms, hands into a dull sky,
live a surrendered life.

 

In the grey, between 
dawn and dusk, I watch nature, 
how she nurtures her family. 

 

You are everywhere, a stranger 
in my house, we are silent,
each other’s ghost opposites.

 

It is snowing and three robins,
centre near the garden
table share one feeder, 

 

without conflict, I call it Jerusalem.                                                                              

Inside, the heat turned up, a wasp 
moves from under the radiator, 

 

attempts to crawl a slow measured

expiration across the wall. I want
to help, know, it’s not the time, life

 

finds its way. Outside, cold turns

ice, a distant bird soars into the harsh

north sun, too high, disappears.

 

I gaze at the mirror, holder of shadow,
many faces. We dreamed ourselves 
into these images, the oppositeness of being.

 

I am ready again for the world,
as I think of the surly waiter who smiled, 
full with contraries.

By Attracta Fahy.

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