by Geoff Knowlton

There you are
Clinging to finger thin branches
Of what won’t sustain you anyway.
Every muscle quivering from the strain of it.
You don’t feel rich
Thoughts of power evaporate from your puny self.
But you showed the bullies.
“Look at me! I’m in charge now,” you went on.
But now you’re gripping the limbs
And wondering if life really is all that dear.
Stops with a jolt at the words
“Come down. Have dinner with me.”
Start over with something as
Frail as a dream,
Grueling as change,
Wispy as a calling.

Geoff Knowlton is a psychotherapist specializing in counseling children in foster care. His poetry has been published in various places including Friends Journal, the journal for Quakers. He has training in psychology and Christian theology and often writes about his experiences with his clients and other places as he reflects on the deeper truths revealed through them. Mr. Knowlton lives in Central Massachusetts.

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