Our Clients/ Ourselves III - You are Under Arrest - Trace/ Truse/ Ruse/ Use/ Us – e

by Gregory Gross, MSW

(Note: This poem is the third in a series. Read installment I and installment II.)

1: So...why the sour puss?

2: You don’t know?

1: Should I?

2: We don’t always do what we should, do we?

1: Fair enough.

2: It’s about last night. You didn’t reply to my email.

1: What time?

2: Early, nine o’clock.

1: I’d hardly call that “early.”

2: Sometimes you don’t call at all, do you?

2: I mean, I waited a long time for you to reply. Nothing, nada, no reply – no reply at all.

1: Well, I don’t work nights.

2: That’s easy for you to say. But my life goes on 24/7. Even at 9:00 at night.

1: You and I have talked about a little something we call “boundaries” and limits. Uh...time limits.

2: Ok, I get that. Still...

(pause)

1: So, what did your email say?

2: “Life is hard.”

1: Let’s play with that a bit, shall we?

2: Don’t you just need to ask me what I meant by “hard”?

1: I could. But let’s deconstruct, just a tad.

2: Shoot.

1: Okay, what does your mind say – or think – when you hear me say this? Ready?

2: I said, “Shoot.”

1: OK. Here goes. Here’s the phrase –  How hard?

2: “How hard?”

1: Now, don’t answer that question. Just let your mind wander – just a tiny bit. What do you hear yourself saying?

2: I’m not sure.

1: Don’t you hear “Hard how?” That’s a trace. It’s like an echo. An inversion echo. Again, Hard how?

2: That’s it exactly. “How now, brown cow!”

1: I don’t know what to say to that.

2: No reply again, eh?

1: A bit of a shot there, huh? You told me to do the shooting. Twice, I believe.

2: Well, that was my echo.

1: I’ll play along. So you got this brown cow.

2: Yes.

1: Describe it.

2: Her.

1: Describe her.

2: Well, she’s brown.

1: What does she do?

2: She sleeps all day. But she’s up all night.

1: All night?

2: Even at 9 o’clock.

1: You’re milking this.

2: Watch it!

1: Sorry, go on.

2: And she’s thinking, life is hard.

1: At 9 o’clock at night.

2: Yes, my pain never sleeps.

1: Give your pain a rest.

2: That’s it. That’s my echo!

1: Huh?

2: ARREST YOUR PAIN!

1: I don’t get it.

2: Listen for your echo there. “Arrest your pain.” Trace it.

1: You know, sometimes we stand at the top of the mountain and shout, “Hello out there” and the echo back, “Hello out there,” makes us feel less alone.

2: And sometimes no echo comes back. That’s called “No reply.”

1: Arrest your pain.

2: Exactly.

Gregory Gross, MSW, is a professor of social work at The College of St. Rose in Albany, New York.