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September 19, 2022

Search Therapy

By Dan Provost

Search Therapy

I hated the search.

Youth spent in unannounced

Running from home with
bloody lips -- trying to
escape into the woods
for safety.

The beginning of isolation that
lasted well into adulthood ...

Took place in the dank timber
of elm.

Screams of self-hatred embarked upon

Only heard in echoes ...

Looked, sought, wanted
to find something ...

But I digress.

I hated the search.

Adolescence angst
fat, uncontrollable blubbering

Crying after being shoved
into lockers after first seventh
grade gym shower ...

Nakedness was self-pity.

Rolls from stomach swayed as I
got up ...

"Hey, where's your dick?"

Some junior high tough laughed as
my turtle refused to show.

I hated the search.

Adult sadness displayed
on wrist scabs.

Went on, walked anyway.
Blood still dripping from the

I staggered.
Looking for one
chance at inner redemption,

for a crime I did not commit.

I hated the search.

Saw bodies on the side of the road

Beat up, trampled, spit on

Some begging for life.
Others just wanting to die.

Knowing that shame.
Only brings more shame ...

Few care.

I hated the search

But we all have to
see for ourselves
don't we?

Witness what is evil
in front of our eyes ...

Kurtz told us horror
has a name and a face.

Some say it's necessary.

Others claim its clarity.

Many, sadly -- I guess
love the enjoyment of
seeing those suffer.

I hated the search.

It has been too long ...

Too long for me to continue
strolling on a joker's lair.

Time is now.

Forever is nothing but

Let the blind look and
the bloody patrons leave
Fight no more battles.

I hated the search.

I sat near the foot
Of the cross and heard
The guy above me dying
Say --

is finished.

I hated the search.
The search -- he, he ...

Is over.

Long live the squire.

Article © Dan Provost. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-04-06
Image(s) are public domain.
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