Burn Out? Poem by Helen Wilson

Alarm bells ring; rats are racing,
Dressing, eating, children-chasing,
Driving, talking, fixing, bunching,
Meeting, typing, number crunching.
Days are judged by what’s achieved
Frantic ‘doing’ by night relieved.

Far from satisfied with life
Oft days leave me pained, in strife.
Others leave me enervated
Anger drained myself berated.
Longing for an easy answer
Thoughts and deeds themselves a cancer.

Drawn floorward in a darkened room,
Three small candles challenge the gloom.
To ward off tears and fear’s ascension
Firmly focus mind’s attention.
Noticing, not judging feelings;
Close down thought and slow the reelings.

Breathing deeply; face uncreases.
Insights come as muscle releases.
Feelings afloat a candle flame,
Amorphous now, without a name;
Starting strong, then weaker growing,
Stretching, shrinking, dancing, glowing.

Life is balanced in this moment:
Joy and sorrow; peace and torment.
Just as wine is grapes fermented,
Perhaps I too am reinvented.
Richer for the heat and pressure,
Move forth slowly, reap the pleasure.