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  • Writer's pictureMelissa

How Was Your Week?

How was your week? you ask

As I awkwardly settle in your chair

I’ve got no idea how it was

Don’t even know why I’m here

Something about keeping my slot

This weekly hour that’s mine

Something about being taught

To honor other people’s time

Am I really supposed to talk

About my week, myself, today?

If I shrug and study your rug

Perhaps you’ll just go away

It's been eighty or so times

But I still can’t help the paralysis

That grips me, slows my tongue

When under your analysis

I can’t make sense of my life

Don’t have the words with which to share

The highs (neh), the lows (yeah!) I rode

Since last week when I was here

I’ve waged wars, been lost at sea

Struggled through the thick of a storm

Tried to stay afloat in the present

But the discomfort made me squirm

I’ve swung from the east to the west

Mired in a swamp of confusion

I’ve doubted every word I ever shared

And regarded you like some illusion

I’ve lain inert in a stuporous daze

Couldn’t summon an ounce of energy

And as the visit to you came closer

I was engulfed by waves of anxiety

The tension still has a grip on me

So I hold on tightly to my coat

Wrap my arms around myself

And answer, “It was good,” by rote.

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Emunah Harrel
Emunah Harrel
Feb 20, 2022


Feb 20, 2022
Replying to

It's always so good to see that I'm not the only one with these experiences and these thoughts -- that there are more normal people on this planet. 😉

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