“The Vanuatu people believe that secrecy is what gives power to the illness. When the error is confessed, it no longer has power over the person.” ~ Claire F. Parsons

I use my camera

lens to magnify

the chasms in my relationships,

focus on how his head

tilts toward her shoulder

while this one leans away, forced

smile, dead eyes.  I only want

to find stimulating sanctuary

in a carefully constructed coterie,

leaving kin to their hearty

holiday bluster, having said a firm no

to the party propaganda, and refusing

any longer to defend the truth

or facts.  Yet this time is most

auspicious to heal rifts,

declare amnesty, forgive debts,

reconcile and make peace

treaties with joy and unbounded love.

I must own

my part of the struggle,

no longer dumping all the blame

— so obviously insupportable,

what a jerk! — instead

to pluck it like a four-leaf clover.

Lucky me, starting anew!

In ancient times, tradition summoned

the shaman at grave illness.

From all corners of the island,

every relative gathered to sit

and confess, exposing

ill thoughts, hostile feelings,

inimical deeds, every adverse

vibration.  They knew the power

of truth and reconciliation,

and they stayed until the sickness

rose like smoke, replaced by

dedicated and directed love.

Inspired by: Your Liberated Heart, Rob Brezsny’s expanded horoscope, Stimulating, Tradition, Camera, and  Coterie.

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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