Healthy Thoughts – New Poem (1st Draft)
My therapist says it’s healthy
that after the death of my Granddad
I’m not thinking about my own demise.
It’s healthy, apparently, and very positive
that I’m wondering and worrying about
other, older people, people close to me
who fed me when I couldn’t speak,
picked me up when I feel over my own feet,
crossed my palm with five pound notes,
and closed my fingers over, with their own.
People who have squeezed their lives
for all their worth, and gone in the direction
where their hearts have led them.
My dreams are heavy with death and dying,
and guilt wants to find its way
back into the cave of my thoughts.
But there is an escape route, through the rocks
above my head, and sunlight is bouncing
off the silvery puddles gathered around my feet.