Poem - Loving Whack-a-Mole

Sat, 20 Dec 2014 05:21:22 GMT

This is another poem inspired by a dear friend. They are an occupational therapist who routinely experience something that I felt when I was doing my massage school practicals. There can be clients that are off-putting for whatever reason, but the time spent with them, and the connection solicited, is a special thing. This is a good! Creating an object with less than love in the heart can result in a tainted creation. Occupational work impacts the client’s body directly, and ill tidings toward the client can be disruptive to the intended work. Love should expressed even if it only surfaces during the actual therapy. My friend suspected this is an expression of unconditional love, felt conditionally. I agree and I wrote a poem to explore the topic.

Loving Whack-a-Mole
Poem for Day 88 – 20141220

I think I’ve snuck up on it
That illusive definition of love: unconditional.
I found it a strange way.
It was through my occupational service to my clients.

Each patient is unique.
Some are dears and others are quite a pain.
When I am with them
they get my full attention even though it drains me so.

Here is the strange thing,
I genuinely love each and every one
when I am with them.
But wait, there is more as my story is spun.

The rest of the time
there are several I cannot stand.
I do still love them
but they can take a flying leap when they leave me.

Is this what it feels like
when unconditional love pops its head up?
Like a whack-a-mole ,
wham, I love my clients all over again.

It is possible
To love them all the time, no matter what,
But only feel it
When I connect in service to them?

So don’t be surprised,
my dear clients who I seem to dislike when you are away,
that I do love you
when the unconditional is felt conditionally.

© 2014. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.

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Poem - Loving Whack-a-Mole