The Sensitive Adult

Poem: Tara Porter

DarcyL Rock

I sit with the dark dense mass inside my chest -

lids heavy with exhaustion,

as my head lulls forwards

another knot is added to the ropes in my shoulders -

a stronger tension is created,

pulling my neck backwards

the knots help me look up at what I don't want to see,

a mass towering over me

shiny granite heavy sharp

Impenetrable

 

It's presence makes each pulse of my heart painful

Reminding me. I am anxious.

Reminding me. I cannot cope.

It's powers hijack my inner monologue

i am powerless because i am always wrong i am predestined to bend and frump, to be lonely

 

How do I make it go away? How? this infinitely present mass.

I try to kick it - to ignore it - to tell it to piss off.

It just compresses further, as it expands physically within my body.

 

Sometimes, i'm not stressed,

appeased by warm sips of tea,

mass lies dormant, snoozing.

I let the air from my breath softly caress it

tickling dark mass with feathers

the edges round off

the stone rumbles sleepily, repositions itself,

some of the tension tightly holding the rock together releases,

black glittering dust falls off the sides

 

Months pass

I slowly breath more and more around the stone

The warm wind eventually shifting it from its foundations.

the rise and fall from my chest supporting me, I walk towards the mass,

to see it.

 

I see the rivets my breath has eroded into the rock.

I follow their meandering directions with my finger tips,

gathering the glittering dust;

specs of Anger and Sadness and misc emotion.

I rub the specs onto my translucent skin.
 

To see what they look like on my face,

to try them on.

When I'm done,

When I need to reemerge,

The marks won't rub off,

Out damn spot, OUT

 

I don't want everyone else seeing my imperfections,

Seeing evidence of the mass.

But the pain is on my face now.

...

I explore, I challenge, I accept.

...

I look at my face,

The smudges from the mass have started to fill in gaps,

The parts of me that I had banished blend into beautiful patterns,

And they belong.

 

---

 

Tara is a writer and longstanding Sensitive Adult Daily contributor. She studies counselling at the Australian College of Applied Psychology. You can contact her through her email: tarap521@gmail.com