Healing Poems


You never know
What will change the world-
a word lightly spoken,
a touch from a stranger,
a glance from a woman
in a red dress,
or a flower opening in your garden.
What you do know
down deep in your bones
is that the cells have
lined up in a new arrangement,
muscles grown
where before was weak and hollow,
and when you woke up this morning,
something else was on your mind
because the old furniture had moved
around to make room.
A momentary alignment of planets
has opened a door somewhere.
You never know how or when,
only that it means

  Towards the Light

By moonlight,
or starlight,
or in the sun's bright rays,
I journey,
guiding my way
by keeping
to the light
as best I can.
Sometimes all seems dark,
then I remember
how the poppy turns its head,
follows the sun's passage across the sky,
then rests in night's cool shadows,
bowing in thanks
to whatever power
makes the stalk
stand straight and strong,
drawing deep from its roots
a wine dark love.
In moonlight,
the garden glows,
silvering the poppies.
And even by starlight
you can tell
shades of darkness
if you try.
So do not lose heart
when vision dims.
Journey forth
as best you can-
bloom when you are able,
rest when you must,
keep faith,
keep always
towards the light.

New Day

You have to wake up in the morning
and open your blinds to a new day,
look past those
preconceptions that line the window,
and open it wide
to smell the fresh air
and listen to the birds sing a greeting.
Make sure you find a lucky penny
even if you have to choose one
you've saved from a rainy day
to remind you to be on the lookout
for the miracle about to be born.
You don't want to miss it
thinking about yesterday
worrying about tomorrow.
Miracles only happen
when you square your eye
to the power of things

  Onion Poem

When does an onion start to grow?
It has no need for water, earth, or sun.
Deep down in the center,
somehow, something moves,
then a dry hair of the root tingles,
and that something
starts to spread,
makes space for a shoot
to move up through all the layers
that have formed slowly,
one around the other,
for a time long past remembering,
and cause the outer skin
dry brown, to split and flake off.
Inside, the center sleeps--
until that moment,
unknown, mysterious,
when it stirs, wakes,
calls on the root
and sends new leaves upward
toward the light.

Tree song

Pruning is over-
now begins the growing.
Call forth energy
from deep roots,
stretch limbs,
feel buds begin to swell,
reach for wind and sun.

As you leaf,
understand that
under your green canopy,
flowers will grow in your shade,
and even in winter,
roots will store food
to feed the burst
of spring.
So in fall, paint your colors boldly,
brilliant reds and golds,
and put your seeds to slumber,
preparing for spring.

In your time of flowering,
or with naked branches,
do not fear the rain,
or the coldest winds,
but stand tall,
look to the horizon,
watch the sun set
and the sun rise.
From your center,
feel each fracture in your bark
find its way to heal.

Remember this:
Leaves know
when they must fall,
and when to bud,
just as the seed knows
when to put forth its first true leaves.

  Petal by Petal

I love you
You love me not,
Petal by petal
we shear our family flower
until magically
new petals grow
and they all say
I love you
and we grow a
chryansthemum of hope.

WomenCanDoIt Home | A Mother's Poems | Trees on the Wing | Island Songs | Journey Poems | Healing Poems | Image Galleries
Freedom Poems | Poems about poetry | Poems of the camera eye |Garden poems| Fairytale poems | Goddess poems | Circus poems

Cat Door, Place des Vosges
| Red Dress, Place Vendome | on the road poems
Yosemite poems | Ghost Ranch Companion
 © 2005, Lenore Horowitz