This is the one. So perfect. One of the hardest things for me to accept is that healing is not linear. I held on to umprocessed grief for about 50 years and now I’m learning that grief & joy flow from the same river.
I love this Lisa--what a wonderful way to depict the spiral and non linear nature of healing, in crossing the winding paths that take us up, down and across the peaks and valleys in our lives.
This is so wonderful, Sarah. I love that you connected fear to healing, and speak so eloquently to that slow and bumpy process of release, letting go, facing and healing.
Great poem, Chuck. I love that first line, "I hugged you with questions marks..." and the wonderful circle of your brother, healed, coming to hios beloved.
Many times I’ve felt that those most interested in us “moving on” and “getting over” grief are the ones who are clueless about their own grief inertia.
This is a very powerful poem, Bob. Healing is not a linear process, nor is grief and the countless ways we move through transforming events in our lives. You have named that so well here.
This is wonderful Jane. A clear reminder that healing is a process, is an evolution, and that even in healing there can still be pain and suffefring. Thank you for sharing your wisdom.
Healing
Is not about
eradicating
the injury.
It's about learning
to live
with the scars.
Yes! Wounded healers.
Yes and amen.
Very well said, j.h.
Yesterday my son glanced at my heel
and said “look! It’s all better now!”
-
Only then did I remember the cut
that bled into my shoe
-
Only then did I notice that I was
no longer treating it every day
-
That’s how healing is
Sometimes others see it
before you do
This is so profound! Lovely
This is so powerful, love. Oof.
This is brilliant, Grace--"sometimes others see it before you do." I love that insight!
I brushed my hair today.
I dressed in clothes
that didn’t stretch.
I washed my face—
made myself up.
I fed myself,
but with more than cereal
harriedly poured from a box
into a bowl of milk
where it might sit,
soggy and forgotten.
No—
I stood at the stove,
I cooked eggs.
I fed myself.
But it was more than eggs.
It was nourishment.
It was realizing that—
empty as I was—
I could be filled full.
It was believing that
I deserve to be fed.
And I put on shoes
The ones I had to lace up
and I ran.
But I was no longer
running away
or running from.
I was running for.
I was running for me,
rebuilding kinship
with my body
believing this body matters—
that my matter
had meaning.
And my feet fell.
I felt strength.
Not strength against.
Strength with.
With the earth,
with myself.
Strength restored.
Renewed, returned, repaired.
And I laughed.
With no dark humor,
not acknowledging
the morbid despondency of
the life I was living.
I laughed with delight,
with a teary-eyed joy
with wonder
that changed me.
Estranged to embraced.
Healing,
I took care of myself today
because I finally believed
I was worthy of care.
.
so powerful! thank you for sharing!
Thank you!
Beautiful!
"It was realizing that empty as I was, I could be full." Yes, friend.
This is a remarkable and beautiful poem, Jenai! What a testimony to healing.
Plinking Paw Prints
I have often felt
the water stirred,
and by it
the words swirl up,
not so much
in tsunami waves,
as in the plinking
of a small pebble tossed
by a young child
into what appeared
to be a calm pond;
stirred by spirits
I could neither identify
as sacred nor profane.
Only after the words
of the inky sea
have splashed on the page
and mostly dried
am I sometimes able
to see that what began
as egotistical hubris
has been transformed,
not by my own doing,
but by the tracks
of animals
across the wet page —
sometimes puppies,
other times kittens,
and maybe even
wild animals climbing in
through the cracks
while I sleep —
who transfigure
the whole ocean
of my soul,
and the paper boat
floating in it,
into an unmasking
of selfishness;
an unveiling that occurs
in a way that is
much less punitive
or accusatory,
and much more
healing and freeing.
I am learning
that I am not only
much more connected
to the cosmos
than I once imagined,
but also beholden
to the creatures
of the night;
for, without
their paw prints,
I might still
be held captive
by the hubris
of my mind.
Love
Very nice Todd. What a heartfelt tribute to the healing powers of our animal cousins.
Healing is not
bypassing, it is accepting what is present.
Healing is not
linear, but a circular, back and forth, unfolding process.
Healing is not
one size fits all, we all have unique constitutions.
Healing is not
fixing, it is honoring what is broken as life’s fragility.
Healing is not
symptom free, but looking deeper into the roots.
Healing is not
compartmentalizing, for we are whole connected beings.
Healing is not
ever finished, because we are always growing and evolving.
Healing is a beautiful alchemy.
I love that we both mentioned alchemy in our poems today! And I love the framing of yours, peeling away what healing isn't to the heart of what it is.
This really says so much. I love the line spacing you’ve used in repetition - so effective.
This is the one. So perfect. One of the hardest things for me to accept is that healing is not linear. I held on to umprocessed grief for about 50 years and now I’m learning that grief & joy flow from the same river.
This is wisdom at its best, Julie. It would make a splendid poster or card! True reminders of the essence of healing grace.
Beautiful, Kaitlin. I especially loved the ending - "I'm ready now." I used it as a seed for my poem.
There is an alchemy
that happens when
we are finally ready
to sit with a feeling,
.
to look pain the eye
and begin dealing
with the cause, and
what is left behind,
.
to remind ourselves
to treat it kindly. And
beneath it -- there --
we find the healing.
‘to look pain the eye
and begin dealing
with the cause, and
what is left behind,’
Gorgeous words x
I love this A. I love the first stanza and the insight it reveals:
"There is an alchemy
that happens when
we are finally ready
to sit with a feeling,"
I am inspired and amazed how in these twelve piercing lines, you manage to speak in the wisdom of the ages. Thank you!
I wish healing was linear
A smooth slope I could climb
Towards a clear destination.
But it winds and doubles back
Switchback upon switchback through the tangled pines
And the summit I think I'm heading toward
Turns out to be false.
But one day I find a clear pass in the rock
And I find myself further along than I expected
The false summit a shoulder of mountain far behind me
And I think, Maybe I am making progress after all.
How true this is!
I love this Lisa--what a wonderful way to depict the spiral and non linear nature of healing, in crossing the winding paths that take us up, down and across the peaks and valleys in our lives.
It really is easy to compare it to hiking in the mountains-- you just have to follow the path and see where it takes you!
Exactly the words I needed to read right now Kaitlin. Thank you 💜
I had thoughts yesterday, but u didn't get to write. So I wrote this this morning on Fear - but I think it's on Healing too ...
A story
Took me away
This morning
Helped me
Feel okay
This morning
The fear
Was growing
Overflowing
Getting
In the way
This morning
I'm grateful
To this story
To words
And heart
And feeling
The fear's
Not gone
But has
Less brawn
And I'm
No longer
Reeling
Ooh, the rhythm of this is wonderful.
Ah thank you A ☺️💜
This is so wonderful, Sarah. I love that you connected fear to healing, and speak so eloquently to that slow and bumpy process of release, letting go, facing and healing.
I hugged you with question marks
as you walked into rehab
Ten years ago.
I hug you with tears of joy
As you walk down the aisle
today on your wedding day,
my brother.
Seeing healing is better.
"I hugged you with question marks" This is so beautiful, Chuck.
Great poem, Chuck. I love that first line, "I hugged you with questions marks..." and the wonderful circle of your brother, healed, coming to hios beloved.
If only it were as simple
as the passing of time, eh?
All wounds would be
well and truly managed.
.
"It's already been six months."
234 months ago I was told
it was time to 'move on.'
.
Really?
This is how healing works?
Someone else's need
for comfort and 'closure?'
.
Healing is not a timeline,
that is clear.
.
Perhaps it is a container,
made of flesh and bone
holding, bearing,
weeping, sighing,
praying, flailing
until scar tissue
forms over the wound
that is never
-not ever-
restored
.
tick
.
tick
.
tick
.
Many times I’ve felt that those most interested in us “moving on” and “getting over” grief are the ones who are clueless about their own grief inertia.
I heard someone say we never move on or get over it. We move forward with it!
Grief inertia.
Finding the flow.
A communal manual.
"Perhaps it is a container, made of flesh and bone holding, bearing, weeping, sighing, praying, flailing..." this poem really touched me, bob.
Beautiful!
This is a very powerful poem, Bob. Healing is not a linear process, nor is grief and the countless ways we move through transforming events in our lives. You have named that so well here.
H E A L I N G
Hard work
Evolutionary
Abundant
Life changing
Impossibly possible
Not for wimps
Gritty
Splendid, Gloria!
In the struggle to hang on to your humanity.
Healing calls.
Surrounded by pretenders that say they value you.
Healing calls.
As binary systems designed for efficiency are revealed.
Healing calls.
Subtle, calculated shifts that finally break you.
Healing calls.
Elevated leaders trudging on, never recognizing their own need for healing. Expecting others to do the same.
Healing calls.
In its brokenness you finally hear it. Your heart, pleading for your attention.
It flutters, and aches for you. Not in an ache that is the end, but in the growing pains of what is to come.
It knows the way of healing. Listen.
Healing calls. Rest.
'as binary systems designed for efficiency are revealed' - on the money Jon! And all of it, bang on.
This is very powerful, Jon. I like the refrain of "healing calls" and the enouragement to listen and hear the call of healing.
healing
there is a poem
inside of me
that is catchy
and uplifting
about healing
being a birth
to death experience
but today
healing is
a few moments
of tears and pain
then lying on the bed
covered with a blanket
for a twenty minute nap
Very nice, Steven. Healing is big and small, and sometiems the one who needs healing is us.
Healing isn't
far away
hidden beneath
or deep within
it's accessibility
cannot be touched
untouchable healing
resides in every cell
shapes every step
breathes life into ashes
and buries the old
healing isn't far away
because we are it
we are her
the people who usher
good and God into
every fragile moment
Amen to poetry as hope, dear soul. Thank you.
The people. Yes. The people. Thank the good God for the people.
Yes, yes, yes.
This is good, Jennifer. Poetry as hope--yes! and "the people who usher good and God into every fragile moment. "Thank you for sharing!
Thank you for hearing!
Healing
At the top of my head
Under thick layers of graying hair
Runs a culvert, shallow, invisible to most
Yet deep enough to feel beneath my brush
Or fingers massaging shampoo
A not-so-grand Canyon, a crater-like
C-scar, as it’s known by the surgeon
Whose scalpel rendered it.
It reminds me of the other (more grand) wound beneath,
That his careful hands removed
Many years ago,
And the fragility of our many-layered
Bodies and lives,
Hurts, exposures, invasions (invisible and not),
But also — more importantly—
That often, in time and with care,
Our many-layered wounds can heal.
This is beautiful, Rachel. Honest, personal and unviersal. Thank you!
Healing
I wonder if
we are ever
fully healed
Long after
the bleeding
or the tears
stop
Long after
the scar
or the memories
start to fade
Long after
it happened
and the before ended
leaving us to negotiate
life in the after...
The nerves still sometimes
twinge and sting
The hurt still sometimes
twists and turns
And we remember
that the healing
continues
This is wonderful Jane. A clear reminder that healing is a process, is an evolution, and that even in healing there can still be pain and suffefring. Thank you for sharing your wisdom.