Poetry Like Therapy Poem by Julia Luber

And now I am at that point, where I fear I am using my poetry as therapy.
Classical form, entertainment, and imaginative polyglotism have abandoned me,
and making chaos of my mind are all the things I could not find the words for.
All the shock and traumatic fear, all the disbelief and rage, all the instances that
a fine literary master could formalize as merely coming of age.

But when they happen to me it's a different story and thing.
I can't find the levity; I can't find the words that sing.
I can't find the attitude; I can't find the chime.
These happenings are simply traumas happening in my mind.
And poetry is supposed to be about more than that.

It's supposed to find how the wiskers of a cat
kind of sort of look like telephone wires, and how
the leaves on a tree fall like a see saw or a person on a trampoline.
Poetry is supposed to be crafted, artful, and clever- not simply
screams midst the scorching hot weather.

So…I'll survive and you will too;
if my poetry doesn't really do-
anything elegant and elevating for you.
But is merely what a therapist gets paid to hear,
nonetheless please find how your comments can be thoughtful and dear.