Therapeutic

There are some feelings that I cannot say,
But in the moment maybe I can write.
They're mostly bad. They hurt. But in a way
That's what makes their writing seem so right.
They're distant on the page, no part of me
Although I know of course I wrote them there;
That makes it possible for me to see
Their truth, but lack the full weight of my care.
A death, a sorrow, a departure seem
More manageable down there on the page;
Not half-forgotten like the morning's dream,
But neither full of all-remembered rage
And tears. So I must set my sorrows here
That I may take them back without my fear.