I do, however, write about my own experience of counselling. This was a poem I wrote some years back about my relationship with my then therapist. It echoes, of course, with the poetry of the wonderful Anne Sexton.

Mr H
with inspiration from Anne Sexton

I call you comfort
because you comfort me,
I call you guide
because you guide me.
I call you Mr Rescue Inc
as well.

And you call me?

I need you.
I lack the required hope.
My weaknesses unfold,
a child’s picture book
with clever devices
to hide and then reveal
and then hide again.

I call you companion.
You came with me
to the water’s edge,
held my hand as I paddled,
flung out the life buoy.

We snapped crab claws
do you remember?
Searched for pearls
in the seaweed.
You must recall that.

I fell at the rocks
sliced my hands and feet
so there were pools of blood
amongst the star fish.

Are you unstained by our journey?
No salt tides on your suit?

Why do you never slip?
Unsoiled, ungrazed
by our voyage through grime.

Each time after I scrub myself
with a cruel brush,
comb silver fish from my hair,
drag eyeless eels from my ears,
anoint myself
with the heavy oils of myrrh,
rub myself with lime,
wrap myself up in purple and silver
to cover over the debris.

I have you under my fingernails
whispering in my head.

Unmoved, untainted,
I call you Mr Rescue.

And you call me?