Had my fast motorbike ride, sensation of wind
in my face, fingers cramped from holding tight
while swishing past lush green veldt each side,
first my head on the right then left, eventually
eyes closed and nearly passing out, a theory
forming in my head:
Anyone depressed is helped by a fast ride, the
imminent threat of death under acceleration
puts an end to despair in an adrenaline high
I express my theory to Pete driving the bike
I can't drive one myself - he replied no
psychologist would use this therapy
They need patients to stay ill for income
guarantees and I agreed, healing is not their
aim - luckily I have the privilege to enjoy this
therapy for heart and mind!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem