Telephone Counselor

Telephone Counselor

A Poem by Daniel Botha

A lonely office - silent phone, blank computer screen,

Volunteer slouched in a chair;

Devoured by cushions, she waits,

Her fingers poised for action;

 

Sudden activity - a phone rings;

Deep breaths,

In and out, In and out;

A flat-line dial tone - Another caller chickens out;

 

Consumed by grief she lays her head,

Her eyes shut tight;

Meaningless, meaningless, meaningless,

This work is meaningless;

 

Sudden activity - a phone rings;

Deep breaths,

In and out, In and out;

A voice - faint, distinctive, shuddering:

 

"I just can't take this anymore..."

 

Engulfed in emotion, she reasons,

She begs, she listens;

Let me help you, let me help you, let me help -

A flat-line dial tone - this one didn't chicken out;

 

The counselor shies away, her phone a hot poker;

Useless, she feels useless;

A shadow of doubt darkens her disrupted mind;

Meaningless - her efforts meaningless;

 

While office walls cave in, she shrinks:

 

"I just can't take this anymore..."

 

Her thoughts echoing (echoing, echoing)

She takes her leave;

 

Sudden activity - a phone rings

No deep breaths, no in or out;

No answering voice,

No one about.

© 2015 Daniel Botha


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Added on February 8, 2015
Last Updated on February 8, 2015
Tags: Free verse, Fiction, poem, poetry, sad, dark