Telephone CounselorA Poem by Daniel BothaA lonely office - silent phone, blank computer screen, Volunteer slouched in a chair; Devoured by cushions, she waits, Her fingers poised for action;
Sudden activity - a phone rings; Deep breaths, In and out, In and out; A flat-line dial tone - Another caller chickens out;
Consumed by grief she lays her head, Her eyes shut tight; Meaningless, meaningless, meaningless, This work is meaningless;
Sudden activity - a phone rings; Deep breaths, In and out, In and out; A voice - faint, distinctive, shuddering:
"I just can't take this anymore..."
Engulfed in emotion, she reasons, She begs, she listens; Let me help you, let me help you, let me help - A flat-line dial tone - this one didn't chicken out;
The counselor shies away, her phone a hot poker; Useless, she feels useless; A shadow of doubt darkens her disrupted mind; Meaningless - her efforts meaningless;
While office walls cave in, she shrinks:
"I just can't take this anymore..."
Her thoughts echoing (echoing, echoing) She takes her leave;
Sudden activity - a phone rings No deep breaths, no in or out; No answering voice, No one about. © 2015 Daniel Botha |
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