Dear friends,
I'm recording my poem after a long time,
But since we last recorded,
I've had many opportunities to write new poems.
It's a gift that I want to share with you.
For whom the bell tolls,
O Tibetan bowls,
Now is the time for you to sing to me.
I'm alone and receptive to your resonance long after you are struck.
For whom the bell tolls,
O Tibetan bowls,
Now is the time for you to sing to me.
I'm alone and receptive to your resonance long after you are struck.
O bells,
How you speak to me,
Silence,
Such a great communicator,
Without a word,
I know the bells toll for me.
My well of almost fifty is beginning to dry,
No more buckets splash gleefully in my waters,
And weary travellers spitefully carry on.
I in this echo chamber long to raise my head for some favours of rain,
Bitter that nobody dare pour some.
Hidden in the depths of such days I reconnect.
My poems come to huddle me,
And in their long and loving embrace I remember the promise of every intentional life to go deep.
The moist soil of my sweat and tears holds possibilities.
In this retreat,
I move the hard bedrocks one at a time,
In the promise of the now-awakened dream,
Stream,
Stream,
Stream,
Heal.
In the forest clearing surrounded by trees,
I sat on a mossy rock,
Away from the ticking clock,
Held my coat.
The sun shone bright,
Among the singing birds in sight.
This is how I went below,
To have a talk with myself.
Me asked,
What do you want to be today?
I answered,
What is needed of me?
The world needs healers,
It's changing around us,
Stress,
Time-scarcity,
Distractibility,
Angst,
Punches below the belt,
All that is felt.
It's all more than before,
For sure,
Not in a sudden way,
But a persistent way.
Here to stay?
More healers everywhere.
Healers everywhere in nature,
Wounds heal rather than fester,
Cool winds for the hot summer,
Rain for the parched earth,
A resting branch for the weary bird,
A safe place for every birth.
More healers.
I'm a healer,
I hear me say,
A healer of spirit,
Body and mind,
A healer to myself as well,
A doula of sorts,
To hold your hand through scary turns,
A soothing balm on all your burns.
In this role I find fulfilment,
An antidote,
To whatever,
Wherever,
With whoever I find myself.
My prayer goes out for everyone,
We all long to be healed.
Humanity's last connection,
Even in the absence of love,
Is to heal.
