Poem – Sicisintiséis (Psychosynthesis)

This poem “Sicisintiséis” (Psychosynthesis) is not an attack! It is however
 a small warning to anyone embarking on any kind of analytical therapy.
 Neither is this a poem written with any great emotion. (I wrote it some years 
after leaving therapy). It is cynical and even humorous coming from 
hindsight. It is not even a very ‘good’ poem because for poetry to be good I 
believe the whole self must be involved. I am not involved here, merely a 
bystander.

There is remembered rage when traffic lights meant nothing and I had
 begun to regress dangerously. I beat a hasty retreat at this point while it was
 still possible. Now, years later and through other connected experiences, I 
think I have learned to ‘patch it up’, cope with the same demanding lifestyle,
 yet keep it simple.

Sicisintiséis

Taoi ag glacadh bliain shabóideach!

Maith an rud gur bhriseas an tsreang imleacain

Le snap tola bhfad ó shin

Gan buíochas duit!

Tusa ‘bhí chomh deimhnitheach

Go mbeifeá ‘Ann’!

Nach tu ‘bhí id’ dhia beag agam anois

Is mórchomhacht agat, (rud a bhí)

 
Nach mó beargsholas tráchta nach bhfacas

‘S mé ar mire ad’ adhradh

A bhaidhb,

A bhí chomh chomh oire, chomh ‘h-ann’

Níos ‘Ainne’ ná mar bhí aon mháthair riamh

Dar liomsa!
 

…Thugais craiáin is páipéar don bhunóc,

Lena smaointe ‘Ieiriú!

…alia suiminte is tusa laistiar de -

Tú chomh saor le gála gaoithe

Is an stiúir chéanna fút!

Mise, im chrogall

Ag iarraidh teacht thar an bhfalla chugat,

Sa dóigh go nglacfá liom idir chorp is chraiceann

(“Crogailhín deas!”)

Dá snapfainn m’fhiacla féin

Ni fhéadfainn breith ort a ghála gaoithe,

Atá ag glacadh bliain shabóideach

Amuigh i meiriceá!
 

…An mó beithioch eile a chruthaigh tú

Led bhraíocht dhiablai?

Capaillna bpláigh leoin,

Beacha, deargabaoil….

Beidh siad siúd uile ag feitheamh ort

Nuair ‘fhillfidh tú id spéirling

Cés moite den chrogall,

A bheidh faoi loch……..!


Psychosynthesis


You are taking a sabbatacle year

Just as well I broke the umbilical cord

By force of will power long ago

And without help from you! (or no thanks to you!)

You that were so sane, so certain

That you would be there

Wasn’t it you I had made into the little god

With great power, (something you actually had).
 

It was many the red traffic light I did not see

And I immersed (or ablaze) in admiration of you

0 Blaidhb

You, who was so perfect, so ‘there’ (together?)

More ‘there’ than any mother ever was

I reckon,
 

….You gave crayon and paper to the ‘child’

to illustrate her/his thoughts

…..a cement wall and you behind it…

You, as free as a gust of wind

And a similar freedom in direction!
…
Me, a crocodile

Trying to cross the wall to get to you

so that you might accept me, body and skin

(“Nice little crocodile!”)

If I were to try with my teeth
I could not grasp you (trying to catch the wind)
You, who are taking a sabbatacle year
In America!
 
How many other creatures did you create
With your devellish magic?
Horses of the Apocalypse, Lions
Bees, devils coachmen…..
They will all be waiting for you
When you return in a whirlwind (hurricane)
But the crocodile
Will be under water…….!