Poetry in Therapy: Healing Through Poems
- Asta Au
- Feb 4
- 6 min read
Sometimes therapy asks for language that is not tidy, organized and wrapped in a bow. Oftentimes, therapy asks for language that is messy, unclear and abstract.
There are moments when a client is speaking, and my attention isn’t just on the story—it’s also the rhythm beneath it. The pauses. The way a sentence trails off. The lines that hang in silence, unsaid and felt. The image that arrives before meaning does. Poetry lives there — in the in-betweens.
I come back to poetry not because it explains, but because it listens. It allows experience to remain textured and unfinished. It makes room for what is true but not yet organized. Poetry is as much about the words as it is about what’s missing. It lives as a space for unfettered expression and a container for the uncontainable. Poetry lives there — in the contradictions.
Because Poetry
I write because I can
Because I want to
Because it breaks me
Because it picks me up
Because it heals me
Because it asks me questions
Because it gives me answers
Because it provides clarity
Because it confuses me
Because I shape it as it shapes me
I
Write poetry
Create poetry
Breathe poetry
Live poetry
Because poetry is within me
Because poetry is around me
Because poetry defines me
Asta Au, 2026
What Poetry Offers the Therapeutic Space
Poetry loosens the grip of linear time. Past, present, and imagined futures can exist in the same small container. A poem can hold grief without asking us to heal or hope without demanding optimism. It provides room to breathe, to ponder, to stay, to be. It can hold us in our most vulnerable moments and celebrate our victories.
Where conversation sometimes pushes toward clarity, poetry allows fog. It allows uncertainty without the search for answers. It allows mud, dirt, stains and imperfections without judgment. And often, this is where honesty resides.
In therapy, this can be quietly radical.
Between the fog and silence
Words live in the fog
Of being surrounded but alone
Shared on the pages, between the fog and silence
Spoken to existence, between the fog and silence
Endless echoes, between the fog and silence
Between the fog and silence
Are the words written
Are the words spoken
Are the words silenced
Are the words unfinished
Are the words repeated
Are the words yet to be said
Between the fog and silence
Are where the words arise
Asta Au, 2026
Different Poetic Forms, Different Doorways
Not all poetry does the same work. Different forms open different kinds of doors, and part of the practice is noticing which door feels safest—or most necessary—in a given moment.
Free Verse: Letting the Voice Breathe
Poetry was historically considered a higher level, or more sophisticated way of writing, at least within the history of English literature. When people think about poetry, they think it’s difficult. There are so many rules, like rhyme and structure. It seems unreachable.
Free verse is often the most accessible place to begin. There are no rules to remember, no shapes to obey. Lines can be short or sprawling, fragmented or flowing.
This style works well when clients feel constrained by expectations—internal or external. It mirrors the space we offer in therapy: you are free to go wherever you wish within this space, within this poem.
Free Verse
fragmented thoughts
mirrors fragmented lines
to leave ideas
hanging
freedom to choose
wherever
it
lands
Asta Au, 2026
List Poems: Grounding within Structure
List poems offer structure without rigidity. They are especially supportive when emotions feel overwhelming. A list poem has the fluidity and flexibility of a free verse poem but offers a list as a container to hold the experience. It can range from a list about experiences to a grocery list, from a to-do list to a wish list.
There is something regulating about accumulation—one line, then another, then another. Like most lists, a list poem can change over time. There might be items to cross off from the list, or maybe things that need to be added. It’s a poem that accompanies the poet through change.
A list can anchor experiences:
Things I carry
Things I avoid
Things that help, even a little
A list can be about feelings:
When I feel scared, I…
When I feel excited, I…
When I feel happy, I…
A list can be about what was and what ifs:
What I remember about my childhood
What I learned growing up
What would I do if I could…
A list can be about tasks, routines and observations:
Things I have in my fridge
Things I hear when I’m on the subway
Things on my to-do-list that I keep procrastinating on
5 Reasons I Write Poems
One. Poems are snapshots of moments, feelings captured in letters
Two. Poems are my weapons of choice, used to strike and cause pain
Three. Poems are my shield of choice, used to hold in a gentle caress, protective
Four. Poems hold the chaos and the calm, an exploration in contradictions
Five. Poems serve as my window to the world —connecting, healing, expressing, creating
Asta Au, 2026
Haiku and Short Forms: Attention to the Present
Brief forms like haiku ask for precision and presence. They slow the writer down and bring attention to sensation, environment, and the moment at hand. It brings us to notice the present without being overwhelmed. The rigidity and brevity of the poems offer structure and boundaries. It makes us think carefully of word choice to convey meaning and image. Short forms remind us that meaning does not require many words.
I particularly like short-form poetry because it encourages me to get to the point. It reminds me not to overcomplicate things. Afterall, I am limited by the syllables available. It guides me into reflecting and getting to the main idea in a straight path, without unnecessary detours. It offers clarity without the fog.
Notably, I enjoy haikus and tankas because of the “turn”. Haiku is a short formof poetry that originated in Japan. Traditional Japanese haiku had three phrases with 17 morae (or, in the English context, syllables) in a 5-7-5 pattern. It also includes a kireji (or, in the English context, a turn) at the end. The turn encourages me to change the tone or mood of the poem, which then encourages me to change my perspective. It has helped crystallize how I feel and turn it into what I want.
Found Poetry: Reclaiming Language
Found poetry gathers words that already exist—journal entries, texts never sent, old letters, medical notes—and rearranges them.
This can be especially powerful for clients whose language has been shaped by systems, diagnoses, or other people’s interpretations. Found poetry allows them to reclaim authorship: these are my words now.
Acrostic Poetry: Redefining Names and Labels
Acrostic poems are nostalgic, as it is likely the first poem someone has ever written. It reminds meof being in elementary school, tasked to create a poem around my name. An easy task in terms of writing, but a difficult one to think about what adjectives reflect me.
An acrostic poem is often accessible to clients, especially those who are reluctant. More importantly, it offers a place to redefine names and labels by creating a poem. A name can change meaning, or labels shift in perspective from an acrostic poem.
A speck of light in the galaxy
Soft glow that gives life to the earth
The sun burns unwavering
A star is born
Asta Au, 2026
Metaphor and Persona: Speaking Sideways
Sometimes direct speech is too close. Metaphor offers a way to speak sideways. Writing from the voice of an object, an animal, or a season can create enough distance to explore difficult material safely. The poem becomes a bridge rather than a spotlight.
Reflections from the Stuffie
I have seen her grow
From the child who needed me
To the adult who still needs me
But less because of fear and loneliness
But now of comfort and care
I am proud to see her
Still the loving baby that first held me
To the adult who loves just as completely
Asta Au, 2026
How Poetry Moves in the Body
In Expressive Arts Therapy, we read the poem twice. The first time to sound out the melody and rhythm. The second time to sit in and feel the words leave the body into the world. Poetry is not only cognitive. Sound, breath, and pacing matter. Reading a poem aloud can slow the nervous system, invite deeper breathing, or bring attention to tension and release.
In session, I listen not just to what is written, but how it lands—where the voice tightens, where it softens, where silence appears. Poetry lives not just on the pages, but in the voice that breathes them into being.
Poetry as Companion
I don’t think of poetry as a technique to be applied. I think of it as a companion in the room—quiet, attentive, willing to sit with uncertainty.
It reminds us that healing is not always about understanding more, but about listening differently. In a world that often demands speed and certainty, poetry permits us to slow down, to speak in images, to leave some things unfinished.
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