Using our Services

Poem - The Window

I live inside a wall, a wall of my own making, to protect me from pain, grief and shame. It was a weak wall when I first built it in my childhood. Now it encircles me completely and cannot be breached by anyone – not even my most learned psychiatrists, nor their acolytes – therapists and nurses – following in their wake.

There is a small window in my wall – perhaps with one-way glass, because nobody seems to see me, but I see people all around. Maybe, one day I will be able to leave this prison, open my window, make contact, and let the world come in.

Sometimes, I want to tear down the wall, brick by brick, and lay each brick aside with all its attendant shame and anger. After fifty years, I am tired of holding up this wall, but who can I trust to help me.

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