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Post by goldenmyst on Jan 22, 2024 20:35:15 GMT -6
Heroine
Ragged souls seated around room Seeking solace from storm lashed lives Woman conducts orchestra of therapy Her soft curves and smile Soothes tempest tossed madmen In the quiet presage of session She sits gazing in contemplative beauty Her sage words play the piano of our hearts “Women and men are made differently. To deny that is to deny the truth.”
Calm sea of communing Threatened by tidal surge Of former prison inmate Whose stories about serving last suppers To prisoners on death row Are spoken from a heart of maim never mended That finds him spooked by patient’s eyes As he rises from chair like a wrathful deity Slips jacket off prepared to smite
Petite therapist arises Like a tropic storm She gathers strength for a feminine foray Pinions man with fingers to neck Other hand presses womanly energy into his back His eyes glaze, jaw goes slack She soothes his testosterone addled psychosis Like water that penetrates stone Her softness melts his granite muscles And she escorts him gently but firmly Out the door
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Post by Castle Court Jester on Feb 6, 2024 0:41:10 GMT -6
Wow John! Some powerful writing here my friend. Is this something that you witnessed? At first I read it as "heroin" until I read it again and read the "storm surge" which could also apply regardless. This is a dynamic read however the "storm" is churning and this woman is definitely a heroine and saint and I'm guessing though I could be wrong that I'm on to something here. Always enjoy reading you my friend.
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Post by goldenmyst on Feb 6, 2024 2:13:14 GMT -6
Indeed I did witness this event, my friend. This woman could be warm and nurturing or use her femininity to subdue aggression which she did in this case. The woman was a social worker at a group therapy place I went to long ago. We were all sitting around in a circle chatting like nothing in the world was wrong until this guy rose from his chair ready to beat up my friend. The lady social worker got ou of her chair and used her touch to subdue him and defuse his aggression. She was amazing in so many ways. She also was playful and nurturing. She used to pretend to be my mother getting after me for reasons she invented, a game which she and I both enjoyed. My second fondest memory of her was when she and I walked barefoot in the grass together and played one on one volley ball. She was an angel on earth.
John
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