"Come, sit down." the healer says
as her patient gazes emptily.
Clinic was dim, table's a mess
"Here's a cup of tea."
The healer dusts her hands on her coat
stained from making medicine.
"What are you here for today?"
"Same as last time, but I have caved in."
"I know just what you need,"
the healer unsheathes a frame.
The patient woefully sighs and
sobs without a bit of shame.
"I can't look again, it reminds me of her!"
to a portrait of a mother and daughter.
"Don't worry," says the healer,
"Tomorrow, it will get better."
The clinic was her art studio;
the medicine were the paintings.
The healer was an artist—
an empath in broken things.
"*Through art, dismantle your heart
embrace the facts of your pain.
The wounds of the past shall heal
and your love for life shall remain.*"
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 11:01 AM UTC
"Come, sit down." the healer says
as her patient gazes emptily.
Clinic was dim, table's a mess
"Here's a cup of tea."
The healer dusts her hands on her coat
stained from making medicine.
"What are you here for today?"
"Same as last time, but I have caved in."
"I know just what you need,"
the healer unsheathes a frame.
The patient woefully sighs and
sobs without a bit of shame.
"I can't look again, it reminds me of her!"
to a portrait of a mother and daughter.
"Don't worry," says the healer,
"Tomorrow, it will get better."
The clinic was her art studio;
the medicine were the paintings.
The healer was an artist—
an empath in broken things.
"*Through art, dismantle your heart
embrace the facts of your pain.
The wounds of the past shall heal
and your love for life shall remain.*"
