"Medicine does nothing if it isn't shared" - I love these lines, Kaitlin ❤️ your concept of words and writing as medicine really inspired my poem today:
Sarah, this is just wonderful! You describe beautiful ritual and practice. It seems like a recipe for any day, which me want to work even harder for peace. I love the last stanza, it makes smile
What a heartfelt and beautiful trubute to the healers, and the women branded as evil out of fear and ignorance and toxic religiousity.. Thank you for the wisdom and courage to do this.
I truly love the closing:
"Honor the wise woman/the visionary, the seer/lookfor the truth-holder/the intuitive, the healer./For she is the holder/of the gifts of healing." May we all find her.
Good point… Definitely not 🫣😆 but I think there is a willingness we can practice, to be moved in a way that is generative and participatory, rather than stressful and disregulating.. but yes we are being moved by the waves of this world constantly, whether we like it or not!!
This is beautiful Kate. The thread of hope that your poem ends and begins with, and is woven throughout, is a wonderful demonstration of the healing power of words. These lines:
"slowly, miraculously,/becoming something new entirely/an experimental extraction/of this world’s wild medicine/dreaming dormant/within in us all." I feel the earth move in the power of your words.
I must be more careful about ingesting the medicine of Caitlin’s words. They often have the power of diverting me from breakfast and shower; task and tribulation. They transport me to a liminal space where I become a human possibility. A question mark more than an exclamation point.
This is very moving, Rachel! Can you imagine if we cultivated our medicines in love? If every doctor knew the medicinal power of nature and prescribed that along with any medications? Your poem points is toward a future that is possible.
"Medicine does nothing if it isn't shared" - I love these lines, Kaitlin ❤️ your concept of words and writing as medicine really inspired my poem today:
***
Here, take these words
let them grow like
seeds inside
your heart
let the syllables turn
to roots strong enough
to lift up any song
so when you are grieving
you may wail
when you are ecstatic
you may shout
and when the notes fade
you know
you are held
in the silence
held in the trust
that those root words
will bloom again
writing a healed world
into your hands
giving you seeds
to plant and
make it so
love this so much!
“Here, take these words” is my favorite offering of medicine, ever 💔
This is beautiful, Katie, I am in a Doctor waiting room, and reading this filled me with, warmth, calm peace and hope. Thank you!
Read it to the doctor.
The poem is good medicine for all.
Hah! Yes, she would definitely appreciate it!
Prayers and healing for whatever ails you that brings you to the doctor's office.
Thank you Dwight. It is a regular Chiropractor appointment, so nothing yo worry about though I am definitely out of alignment.
So beautiful! Thank you for writing a healed world into my hands!
Wow! So moving and enthralling.
What is healing?
I start to draw dots
between science and magic
and comfort and mystery
and tenderness and laughter
and words and stillness
and art and hands in the earth
and hands in my hair
and hands in my hands
and hands in connection
and connection
and connection
and connections like constellations,
like things we already know -
have known,
deep down -
for as long as we have known the stars,
for as long as we have been,
they draw themselves.
The medicine,
the hope,
the connection;
all is never truly lost.
“Connections like constellations” Yes!
So love this A.l. I like the form and your use of “and”. And the pairings”. And the sweet repeat of what hands can do.
I love your use or repetition here.
Love is a drug
A potent medicine
In a childproof container
In your medicine cabinet.
Love is a drug
That should be taken wisely.
Too much, too soon
Can cause much harm
To soul and body.
Too little, too late…
same effect.
Love is medicine to be taken
as directed by the great healer.
To the one with love to offer:
A spoonful of sugar
Helps the medicine go down.
Be a spoon.
Be sugar.
Love is a drug
most effective when
taken with food, shared.
Love is a drug
With side effects.
May cause compassion
In susceptible people.
Highly contagious.
LOVE is all you need.
Love IS all you need.
Love is ALL you need.
Love is all YOU need.
Love is all you NEED.
Love is a drug.
On the count of three
Let’s take our medicine together.
so good!
"Be the spoon be the sugar"
Yes.👍
Yes!!!
First thoughts in the morning:
Gratitude.
Then some stretches,
Naturally inducing
Deeper breathing.
A walk -
Noticing the nature
Even in the town;
Tiny ferns and moss
Clinging to stone walls.
Perhaps a dance,
Or a dip in the sea.
Definitely good food,
And mindfully brewed tea.
An Oracle card -
The crafting of an altar.
Intentions clear,
Then quickly falter.
Yes, I take a few pills
Morning and night -
But it's traditional medicine
In which I delight.
Sarah, this is just wonderful! You describe beautiful ritual and practice. It seems like a recipe for any day, which me want to work even harder for peace. I love the last stanza, it makes smile
Awh Larry, your encouraging words always make me smile! Thank you friend 💜
Here for your healing
I offer my medicine.
My presence and welcome
to ground you
in this safe and sacred space.
A container for all you bring.
Invitation and care,
reassurance,
respect.
And always, always hope.
This is lovely, Kate.
Thanks!
Prayers are medicine
that may not change or heal
who or what is prayed for,
but most certainly have power
to change and heal
the one, praying.
Amen, Dwight, to this piece of deep wisdom.
Women of the healing arts
often mislabeled
abused,
beaten,
burned at the stake…
When all she wanted to do
was heal the ills of
her people.
Gathering herbs, flowers,
root, leaf and bud.
She would brew potions,
and unguents,
dry leaf and root,
finally beating them
into a powder to make
a healing plaster or paste.
To the women before us,
practicing healing arts,
branded as witches we carry them
buried deep in our hearts.
She understood the power
of healing at the soul level.
Going beyond what modern
medicine often does.
Integrating the whole
rather than sectioning
and only healing the
superficial wound.
Honor the wise woman,
the visionary, the seer.
Look for the truth-holder,
the intuitive, the healer.
For she is the holder
of the gifts of healing.
yes yes
History is rarely kind to healers.
"we carry them buried deep in our hearts" ❤️
She is the holder - yes!
Thank you for invoking them 💔🙏
What a heartfelt and beautiful trubute to the healers, and the women branded as evil out of fear and ignorance and toxic religiousity.. Thank you for the wisdom and courage to do this.
I truly love the closing:
"Honor the wise woman/the visionary, the seer/lookfor the truth-holder/the intuitive, the healer./For she is the holder/of the gifts of healing." May we all find her.
I got it into him
wrapped in sliced turkey
To hide the flavor
Tricking his small innocent body
into taking what
it knew would tear it down
By the fifth and last of the daily pills
he stopped
Eating, drinking, wagging his tail
Would it work?
Or was it needless suffering.
There is no guarantee.
Regardless, it was my decision
I made the choice
He paid the price
And that's where the medicine lies
Knowing the risks and rewards
We take a stand
And transform with the consequences.
Standing with you in this space right now!
This is beauitful, Joe. I and I expect many others can feel the difficulty of such decisions. Peace be with you.
Medicine
This western culture
Has us paying for Medicine
“Hey, buy our products
If you wanna win”
But after a while
Some seek another way
It’s the way of Gaia
And she holds us and says
For the real Medicine
There is no need to pay
“Forget not, that the Earth
delights to feel your feet
And the Wind longs
To play with your hair”
Thank you Gibran
For this reminder
Of her magic Medicine
And her tender care
The Medicine we seek
Cannot be found at
The Pharmacy counter
Its Gaia we need
So put your hands in the dirt
And leave the rest up to her
Thank you, Jimmy, for this reminder.
without each other,
leaves and hot water
would continue to be themselves,
separate and defined,
but when combined
they swirl and break
down the boundaries
of their supposed separation,
slowly, miraculously,
becoming something new entirely—
an experimental extraction
of this world’s wild medicine,
dreaming dormant
within in us all.
each being here,
including you,
is made holy,
made wholly
by the ways we choose
to be moved, to be brewed into
something new
together,
how each one of us becomes
the serum,
the healing petals,
the wax that turns another’s heartache
into balm.
Also; “is made holy,
made wholly
by the ways we choose
to be moved…” Do we always get to choose?
Good point… Definitely not 🫣😆 but I think there is a willingness we can practice, to be moved in a way that is generative and participatory, rather than stressful and disregulating.. but yes we are being moved by the waves of this world constantly, whether we like it or not!!
Love this! Too many to list, this this one I offer as example, “this world’s wild medicine,
dreaming dormant…” -not lying dormant as my mind immediately expected, but dreaming dormant! The medicine is dreaming of being released into action.
I love that this felt curious to you, I wouldn’t have seen it that way!! Thank you for that.
Made holy / made wholly ✨ ❤️ I love this and the interplay of how we become the serum & healing together
This is beautiful Kate. The thread of hope that your poem ends and begins with, and is woven throughout, is a wonderful demonstration of the healing power of words. These lines:
"slowly, miraculously,/becoming something new entirely/an experimental extraction/of this world’s wild medicine/dreaming dormant/within in us all." I feel the earth move in the power of your words.
Medicine
What have I got
In my first aid box
What have I got
That will heal?
What will bring light,
What will soothe pain,
What will bring comfort,
And make you smile again?
How can I bring hope,
How can I bring healing,
To a world full of pain,
That leaves us all reeling?
I bring what I can-
Gentle words, a listening ear
Arms to gather you in
A space to begin.
My presence a light
In your darkest of night
My medicine - a light
That I'm holding for you
Holding out hope - like a rope.
Beautiful...
"How can I bring healing
To a world full of pain,
That leaves us all reeling?"
This is lovely, Claire. I can sense your healing spirit and intentions across these cyber spaces. Thank you.
Thank you Larry, what a gift your encouragement and words are in this space
Thank you for your kind words, Claire.
A blessing hoarded is a blessing distorted. Offering and being willing to receive blessings is good medicine.
I must be more careful about ingesting the medicine of Caitlin’s words. They often have the power of diverting me from breakfast and shower; task and tribulation. They transport me to a liminal space where I become a human possibility. A question mark more than an exclamation point.
love this so much! writing does this to me all the time! :)
The medicines the doctor prescribes for me
are a cocktail of chemicals
engineered to cure or contain a range of conditions
But the medicines I prescribe
are a cup of tea (I'm British after all!)
a good book
a moving film or show
a chat with a friend
a snuggle with the dog
a long walk
an early night
sunset at the beach
I have no proof
but I'm fairly sure
that a combination of the two types
is the most effective medicine
A cup of tea, a good book, and dog snuggles are some of my favorite medicines too 🥰
I believe you are right, Jane. May your healing journey be strong.
What is medicine for
Except to help us
Feel better?
And what good
Is feeling better?
It helps me forget
About myself
And turn to you,
Showing compassion,
Delivering kindness,
Offering smiles,
Touching gently,
Listening well…
Whatever the medicine,
Let’s all take it
To make us better
Humans.
Very nice, Korie. A friend and colleague justt went into the hospital and will likely need surgery. Your poem is a wonderful healing potion.
We cannot cure the world
Or each other, or ourselves
Of all that plagues us
Where universal pain seems
Stronger, older
Than life itself
And medicine exists
Only for the lucky few
Only for a little while before
The next pandemic
The next war
The next famine
But even if there is no cure
Maybe there is healing
In ageless medicinal wisdom
Cultivated so gradually
We don’t see it
But still we deliver it
Moment by moment through
The balm of an encouraging word
A gesture of gratitude
A second chance
A mistake forgiven
A door held open
Or the slightest pause
And moment of silence
Before the assumption
The snap judgment
Before the fear infests
Or maybe we listen
Stay curious
Work through the fear
Until we’re brave enough
To soothe each other’s wounds
Aid each other’s recovery
Our futures bound together
Through our collective
Salvation.
This is very moving, Rachel! Can you imagine if we cultivated our medicines in love? If every doctor knew the medicinal power of nature and prescribed that along with any medications? Your poem points is toward a future that is possible.