Whistle, bone and root-stock starts
once again, lost in dust clouds of dogged grey
In a world of tempered glass and plastic reflection
my closest friends toil without waver now
My calm hands listen with tender steady
the focused heart-mind breathes fire
I search...I cry...we hope
If only I can purge an ounce of pain
if only for a moment of relief
seeking to place an answer
with the warmest of hugs I can give...
In a list
A contest entry
- Healers by CarolDesjarlais.
900 points, ended May 31, 2008, 6 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I enjoyed the healing quality of this poem...we all need hope and a hug.
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oh...and that has always been the way to know what needs to mend....the gathering of one aura to another.
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yes, the true blending of colours my dear.
megweich for the bronze
Im glad to see your still slingin words out here in the virtual.
all the best
dan
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"my closest friends toil without waver now
My calm hands listen with tender steady"
Yes, of course you are a natural healer. An incredible voice poured smoothly as soulful waters flourish. Carol will love this. I know someone else who will, as well. Good luck in the contest, Poet. 
Wanda
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