Gratitude to the Anonymous Client: A Poem By Nicholas Sarantakis on 7/1/21 - 12:29 PM

I meet you every Thursday evening at 5pm,

sitting in front of my polished laptop screen,

wearing my serious, white shirt on top,

but my purple tartan pajamas underneath.

I am an actor stepping up on a half-stage,

marginally nervous until I cite my first line,

as you ponder along the tightrope of your lifeline.

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Every Thursday at 5pm confirms we are both alive,

As I creep into the delightful maze you take me.

I appreciate you keeping me existentially wake,

as I stretch my soul to keep up with your dreams.

You always bring a full agenda of splendid topics,

and you ferment my words as tender dough,

before you mold them into a delicious cloud,

aromatic but not edible, true yet ineffable.

And thus my evenings unfold in front of my laptop screen,

as I travel into clients’ kitchens, attics, or garages,

as they secretly enter into my own crossroads and daydreams,

keeping me wondering, “will I have an answer this time?”

All my laptop world becomes a stage,

with men and women having their exits and their entrances.

They play their part, give a splendid speech,

and glow as a one-day living whitefly,

before they move gracefully backstage.

They come and go, land and flee away,

and I can never really know,

whether there’s still something alive there,

after my laptop screen shuts down

Could it be that only an empty space,

sprawling as a therapy encounter ends,

can be filled with the presence of “me” and “thou”? 

File under: A Day in the Life of a Therapist, Musings and Reflections