The Therapist Poetry Podcast

Hello everybody, and welcome to what is no longer Healing Through Poetry. There’s been a bit of a rebrand, and it’s now the Therapist Poetry Podcast. Today, we’re lucky to have Simon with us, who is a therapist working with bereavement in his role at the hospice, as well as having a private practice. I’ll hand it over to you to introduce yourself a little bit, Simon.

Simon:
Yeah, hello Ricky, thanks a lot for having me, and I’m happy to be here. So, I’ve got two roles going on at the moment. I work a lot in a hospice, which is a bereavement role. I work with relatives of people who have passed away, but also with people who have received a terminal diagnosis, and their families. So, that’s a big part of my work. It’s a part-time role, so I also have time for my private practice. I’ve focused my practice on walk-and-talk therapy because I’ve always liked the idea of getting outside, going for walks, and combining that with therapy. It’s been said a lot that nature is beneficial for mental health, and I really believe that. I find that many of my clients really connect with it, especially men. Men often struggle to talk about their issues, but when we’re walking side by side, it seems easier for them to open up. It’s different from the face-to-face therapy, and they really connect with it. So, I stay pretty busy between these two roles.

Ricky:
Yeah, thinking about the bilateral movement involved in walking—connecting the right brain and left brain, while moving and talking—there’s something about it that brings together thought and emotion, not only in the brain, but also through all the senses: sight, sound, touch, and the feel of the wind. It really helps bring everything together.

Simon:
Yeah, absolutely. It’s multi-sensory, and as you said, people are tuned into more senses when they’re walking. The weather, the sounds, the smells—it all contributes to the experience. It’s a very holistic approach to therapy.

Ricky:
Is this something you also do in your private practice?

Simon:
Yes, I actually introduced a walk-and-talk service at the hospice as well. We’re lucky enough to have some lovely grounds, so it’s a limited service, but it’s something I offer. Not everyone is comfortable with it—some people would prefer a nice, warm room—but others find it really helpful. People often tell me that it’s not just therapy, it’s also a bit of exercise, and that’s beneficial for them as well. So yes, it’s a service I offer at the hospice too.

Ricky:
That’s great. It’s important to recognize that not every modality works for everyone, but if it works for some people, it’s a valuable option. Thinking about your role in the hospice, this approach seems like it could really benefit people who aren’t getting out much.

Simon:
Exactly. It’s not for everyone, but for some, it’s really beneficial.

Ricky:
Today, we’re talking about a similar subject: grief and bereavement, and a bit about your own experience with it. I know you’re going to read a poem for us in a minute, but I’d love to hear a little background on it first.

Simon:
Sure. We’ve been talking about guilt in bereavement. I often see clients at the hospice struggling with guilt, which can be difficult to talk about. This poem is about my own feelings of guilt surrounding the death of my father. It was a complicated situation because when he died, I was on holiday. He had been adamant that I should go, even though he was living with cancer. I had arranged for a close friend to look after him while I was away. Even though I made those arrangements, I still felt guilty. No matter what qualifiers you put on it, those feelings of guilt don’t go away.

Another twist of fate added to the guilt. I was on a cruise ship, and the ship docked in Barcelona the day of the terrorist attack at Las Ramblas. The captain changed the ship’s course, allowing us to get phone signals, so I called my dad. That was the last time I spoke to him. So, I felt guilty about benefiting from the suffering of others. This poem explores that mix of feelings—guilt, relief, and the complex situation of being in Barcelona that day.

Ricky:
That sounds incredibly powerful. Are you ready to share the poem now?

Simon:
Yes, I am. The poem is called Send Me a Postcard.

[Simon reads the poem.]

I called you from the ship
because they said that we could.
It was good to hear your voice.
I felt better telling you I was okay,
in that room on the waves
with this banister made of wood.
Did I know deep down
that we’d never speak again,
and did you know the same?
Your affairs in order, filed away,
Your brave face in place,
showing us no pain.

Later, I felt guilty for this chance to say goodbye,
because lives were lost that day.
Not yours, though. Not just yet.
In time, I’d be grateful,
but I’d still keep asking why.
I was sat in a café when they told me you were gone.
Those guilty feelings flooded back,
but this time, they were different.

News of death, news of tragedy,
now I was the one.
“Send me a postcard,” you said.
That card was never mailed.
I sent an email with a picture, though,
because that way, it was easier to send a message
across the seas that you’d once sailed.

Ricky:
Thank you so much for sharing that, Simon. You can really hear all the different emotions in there. I love the title, Send Me a Postcard. Was there a particular reason why you chose to include the ocean and the waves?

Simon:
Absolutely. My dad had a brief career in the Merchant Navy before I was born. It struck me that I was on the same cruise line that he worked for at one point in his life. I had that final conversation with him on the sea, so the poem touches on that. The connection to the ocean felt poignant, even if it’s not explicitly stated until the last line. It’s a fitting reflection of his past and our final exchange.

Ricky:
That connection between you and your dad in that moment was really important for you.

Simon:
Yes, it helped me process things a lot. At the time, I didn’t realize it, but later, I reflected on how that connection helped me process my grief. I spent some time just looking out to sea on the cruise, and I remember thinking about him and feeling that sense of connection. After I got home, I wrote it all down.

Ricky:
In counselling, we often talk about triggers, but also about “glimmers.” That connection with your dad sounds like a glimmer for you.

Simon:
That’s a great way of putting it. I’ve never thought about it that way, but you’re right. Glimmers are the moments we hold onto, and we need those glimmers to help us through.

Ricky:
Exactly. We should cling to those glimmers because they are the things that guide us through the tough times.

Simon:
Absolutely.

Ricky:
Thank you so much for coming on today, Simon. Before we wrap up, is there anything else you’d like to share about poetry and how this poem has helped you?

Simon:
I’ve always liked writing. In my past, I’ve had jobs related to writing and editing, and I also do some fiction writing. Writing has always been an outlet for me, especially in coping with losses and challenges in life. It’s a form of escapism and a way to express feelings that might otherwise stay locked inside. Writing things down—whether it’s journaling or poetry—helps me process things. I think creative therapies like poetry are powerful because they allow us to express ourselves in a way that traditional talk therapy sometimes can’t.

Ricky:
I couldn’t agree more. Just like the walk-and-talk therapy, combining creativity with therapy helps connect thought and emotion in a really unique way. Thank you again for sharing everything today, Simon.

Simon:
No problem. Thanks for having me, Ricky. I really enjoyed it.

Ricky:
Thank you again. If anyone has any questions or comments for Simon, he’s kindly agreed to look at the YouTube channel. Please leave your comments, and Simon will respond as soon as he can. Thanks for joining us today!