The Healing Path

Dear Doctor,

Don’t shock someone in a crisis by saying,

you are oversensitive


you have autoimmunity.

Especially if you are wearing a white coat

and have a stethoscope around your neck,

please avoid a diagnosis-like voodoo hex,

an ominous-sounding word followed with:

we don’t know what causes it,

and there is no cure,

but I can give you pills

and cut out your organs, if you like.

Don’t you know how dangerous that is?

I’d like to find your patients — your clients

who paid good money for that dollop

of bullshit you have splattered all over them —

and instead say:

You have a rare and beautiful gift,

invisible tentacles entangled in

every person you have ever connected with,

every time you have been drawn to,

every space you resonate with.

You are plugged into an internet

of your own creation,

and you started before you could speak,

a child with a huge, loving heart

intent on saving those you loved.

(In fact, right now, there may be loved ones

who have attached themselves to you

and are busily suctioning off your energy.)

Many steps led you to this place of crisis,

and the way back starts

by embracing this moment, right now.

Don’t listen to that person offering you meds

to take away the pain.

This is the place where you enter healing

by embracing what hurts.

Your healing path will lead you far

from the electronic-screened brightness

of the distracted civilization.

You will be supported by poets

and chefs, fellow sufferers

who found their own way,

as you will find yours.

Reel in your tentacles,

slowly, calmly,

reclaiming yourself.

This is essential to your healing.

Every night, you’ll send them out in your dreams,

seeking old friends, old enemies,

so every morning, sit in silence

be with your loving heart

and reclaim yourself.

Let the gift of the crisis draw you inward

to the place of silence where

you can embrace the now,

all of its pain and darkness,

all the swirling pieces of other people’s nightmares

you have been holding for them.

Remember: you can’t make anyone happy.

Happy is one point on a wave

that endlessly undulates

through the vast ocean of your being.


Sometimes you will surf like a pro,

poised with exhilaration

as the wave carries you forward.

Sometimes you will be dashed into the riptide,

struggling hopelessly against the forces

that are intent on dragging you under.

And all the others you connect with

are the same.  Let them experience

their own glorious ride

while you peel back the layers

of your crisis to that beautiful

gift of connection.

The planet is waiting for you.

Inspired by the Daily Word Prompt: shock


Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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