Poetry

The Fountain

*this poem is dedicated to a dear friend of mine.

 

“Lina is a liar, who cannot bear her real face in the mirror”  – Anais Nin

She washes her hands continually,

Going through

Roll after roll

Of toilet paper, denying

Using them to sop up her worries

As if soap could scrub off shame

& water rinse away blame.

I knock, knock

Ask what’s she’s doing, she

Opens the door as if escaping a fire

When really the bathroom is an ocean

& we are set adrift on the tides

of our own flushing.

I hope she is not purging,

I’m urging for breath

As if wind could fuel a flame

Over everything she is

Constantly trying to douse out.

One year later

And now,

Finally

She can light the stove

– without –

freaking out.

 

She opens the bathroom door

& I emerge from the room of my own shame,

step into the fountain of compassion

& embrace her.

 

Adrienne Adams March 10th 2016

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