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Sy Lilang Jul 2014
The question that is never far away
The healing doesn't come from the explained
Jesus please don't let this go in vain
You're all I have
All that remains
So here I am
What's left of me
Where glory meets my suffering
I'm alive
Even though a part of me has died
You take my heart and breathe it back to life
I fall into Your arms open wide
When the hurt and the healer collide
Sometimes I feel it's all that I can do
Pain so deep that I can hardly move
Just keep my eyes completely fixed on You
Lord take hold and pull me through
So here I am
What's left of me
Where glory meets my suffering
I'm alive
Even though a part of me has died
You take my heart and breathe it back to life
I fall into your arms open wide
When the hurt and the healer collide
It's the moment when humanity
Is overcome by majesty
When grace is ushered in for good
And all the scars are understood
When mercy takes its rightful place
And all these questions fade away
When out of the weakness we must bow
And hear You say "It's over now"
I'm alive
Even though a part of me has died
You take this heart and breathe it back to life
I fall into your arms open wide
When The hurt and the healer collide
Jesus come and break my fear
Awake my heart and take my tears
Find Your glory even here
When the hurt and the healer collide
Jesus come and break my fear
Awake my heart and take my tears
Find Your glory even here
When the hurt and the healer collide
Jesus come and break my fear
Awake my heart and take my tears
Find Your glory even here
I don't composed this For it was a song. Great message
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
I would not know that wounded hearts will never bend
Except it's by the gentlest wind
Had You not blown Your love on me

I did not know that arrows sprung with poisoned darts
Could be dislodged from human hearts
Till You began to set me free

How should I know that crushing loss can by its pain
Yield intimacy's most treasured gain
Unless You gave Your Word to me?

I could not know that failures worse than greatest fears
Might actually bless through staining tears
This soul undone by Your decree

But now I know that Love's own touch
Brings untold joy which healeth much
From One Who cleaves so faithfully
Jimmy Hegan Nov 2015
Just one touch as He moves along,
Pushed and pressed by the jostling throng,
Just one touch and the weak are strong,
Cured by the Healer divine.

Just one touch as the He passes by,
He will list to the faintest  cry,
Come and be saved while the Lord is nigh,
Christ is the Healer divine.

Just one touch and He makes me whole,
Speaks sweet peace to my sin sick soul,
At His feet all my burdens roll,
Cured by the Healer divine.

Just one touch and the work is done,
I am saved  by the blessed Son,
I  will  sing while the ages run,
Cured by the Healer divine.

Just one touch and He turns to me,
O, the love in His eyes I see,
I am His for He hears my plea,
Cured by the Healer divine.

Just one touch by the Saviour great,
He will hear thee, upon Him wait,
Own your guilt and your sins forsake,
Cured by the Healer divine.

Just one touch by His mighty power,
He can heal thee this very hour;
Give sweet peace , though the tempests low'r,
Cured by the Healer divine.
Solaces Jul 2013
We were but days away of completing this strange object we were buliding for the healer of the Earth..

The Earth was already reborn again..

Its rivers fresh and clear..
Oceans clensed and blue..
Lands rich and alive..
People free of diesese..
The world singing the same song..

At last the creation was complete..
From a mountain we carved out a sort of series of shapes and arcs..
I cannot explain it..
You truly have to see it to believe it..
The healer then walked up one of the arcs and into the center..
The healer of the Earth shine brighter than our sun...
The shapes shadowed around the healer as he shined ever so..
A gate of light seem to open above the stars in the sky..
And there fell a ball of light to the healer..
The healer caught this light and held it in front of it..
The light then shaped itself into another healer..
It was his love..
At this moment I felt what he felt..
We help build a machine a sort of gate to bring his lost love back..
The gate could only be bulit by us for him..
A race had to unite and work together without conflict..
A sort of final expression to a formula to complex for us to understand..
They became colors we had never seen as they held eachother..
The entire mountain machine mankind had bulit for them begin to shine..
It then flashed and vanished all at once..
They are going home..
raphæl Nov 2018
"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.
i once heard a story about a man who healed people for a living.
he'd make them laugh & mend their hollow, broken souls.
he'd assist them with their problems until they started to feel whole.
but in his mending of other people, he'd break inside every day,
as he used the substance his soul was comprised of
to glue the broken souls together.
until one day, he had none.
he had become so broken & empty that he felt he couldn't go on.
he went to a spiritual advisor & told him about his depression.
the spiritual advisor said, "there is a man named The Healer down the road that can make you laugh & heal your soul so that you may feel whole. go to him."
the man started crying & said, "but... i am The Healer."
he spent his whole life healing.
... but who heals the healer?
who nurses the nurse?
who listens to the one who's always listening?
we that take care of others must face a horrible reality  —

that no one can take care of us.
Kim Essary Jan 2019
Of this world so darkened by evils, evils that taint and tarnesh all the good in it's path..
Love bares a soul that only our creator can claim, hands that heal the wounded and a heart that breaks by day.
Hidden souls that crawl from the cracks left behind to wait for the coiled serpant like powerless pray.
They walk amongst us in a field left open , to be struck by the venome  as they lay hopeless and face their death ,.
The Wounded Healer kneels beside them with hands to lay, ******* the poison,  giving them purity to rinse their veins.
The Wounded Healer now weakened by the goodness of thyne heart but expects nothing in return
Now her age upon her,  taken over the beast of I'll, not one soul of the once wounded stands before her to show they love her,  as she asks of nothing more before she goes.
Is this what I see and feel before me to be A Wounded Healer yet die with painful sadness as I lay here all alone .  
Tis true to never expect the good you rein upon God's children to rein on you in return. Keeping your heart good and love without regret for This is the Only honest love that of a wounded Healer is certain they will get
Healing of anything is self serving in itself
Jude kyrie Nov 2015
The Healer

*The sadness fell on the earth
like spiders webs.
Hanging from the starless sky.
The healer wept in empathy
of the world’s broken heart.
Taking a globe that held
all the places on this planet
He layed his healing hands upon it.
Tell me where it hurts he whispered
Tell me now I will drain my healing powers
Into it.
It shouted in the sorrow
of a soul in pain.
Alyssa Underwood Sep 2017
There is little in this world that consistently causes our hearts more pain or which produces in us more need for forgiveness than rejection, especially from those whom it has cost us so much to love. It is universal anathema to the soul, and much of our lives can be unconsciously governed by the fear of it. So we find ourselves naturally asking, "Joy in the midst of rejection? Is that even possible?" Oh, yes! Not only possible but commanded of us who are believers in Christ. And not only commanded of us but ready to be gloriously bestowed on us like the most precious of pearls.

It's in the season of greatest rejection that we enter the season of greatest opportunity to discover the fullness of God's joy by discovering the fullness of His own heart. Walking in intimacy with Jesus through this searing pain may be one of the most priceless privileges of grace granted to us on this earth, for it opens up one of the widest doors for us to enter into the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, and there is no more obvious chance to die to ourselves and live for Christ than in that holy communion of suffering with Him.

It's there that we're most able to clearly see Him and best prepared to clearly reflect Him, and it's then that we're empowered to live our lives here on earth from the very throne room of heaven, seated in the resurrected presence of our Bridegroom, where the joy always runs full and over. So our deepest heartaches will turn to deepest joys when we embrace them for the sake of Christ, to gain Him and be found in Him, to know Him in intimate detail through excruciatingly sweet experience. We will discover that the Lord entrusts the most luscious of blessings and the rarest of secrets to the most desperate and thirsty of souls, and that He delights to place the loveliest of wings on the lowliest of worms.

The gifts of myrrh's sorrow which the Father pours into the vessels of our lives are poured first into the hands of His own Son and flow through His nail-pierced scars before they ever touch us. And as we choose to graciously receive them as such, we are filled up with Him and enabled to pour Him out into the lives of others, even those who continually scorn and despise us.

The gift (yes, gift) of rejection is the high privilege of being asked by our Commander to become His flag bearer, receiving the esteemed honor of marching beside Him at the center of the front line, into the heat of the battle and into the face of the "enemy" (the rejecter), armed with no gun and carrying only His banner of love over our head for all to see. It's a sacred invitation into a certain death for the sake of knowing His love more intimately and for the service of displaying it more gloriously.

And if tempted to refuse the privilege, let us remember these two things: this life is so much more freely, joyfully lived when we have finally learned to count ourselves dead to it and alive to Christ, and the flow of His agape love through us will only be as strong as what it costs us to demonstrate it. The greater the cost, the purer the love; the purer the love, the more we are made like Him; the more we are made like Him, the more attuned we will be to His own heart's breaking and to our own breaking of it.

Oh, that we might be purged of ever thinking again that our neglecting of His love does not matter to Him! May He cause our hearts to break and break until we see how much it does! May we know the world's rejection again and again until we are finally scoured clean of our own despicable tendency to reject Him in favor of all our worldly playthings! No lover has ever endured more rejection than our Lover at our own hands and by our own hearts. And no lover continues to love through rejection with the determination and desire, suffering and sacrifice, tenderness and tenacity of our own Bridegroom. Can we not endure whatever He has called us to suffer for Him? Can we not allow it to drive us more fervently to His heart?... Lord, capture us by Your mighty hand and consume us by Your mighty flame, and may we pant and pine only for You, for Your love sets us free to dance in the midst of the fire!

How humbling, mystifying and worship-evoking it is to realize that the One we have so grievously rejected is the same One Who so perfectly understands and longs to comfort our own heart's grief when we are rejected. And to not run to Him now for that fellowship of healing would be to reject Him all over again and to break His heart once more. What could hurt Him more than our stubborn resistance to share in both His sufferings and His comfort when there is so much joy and intimacy waiting to be had with Him? Whatever ache our own heart knows, however deep and scathing, it cannot compare to the ache of His own heart when we let anything pull us away from Him, for He is rightly EVERYTHING to us—Father, Husband, Lover, Best Friend, Brother, Confidante, Kindred Spirit, Counselor, Nurturer, Rescuer, Healer, Hero... Behind the pain of every rejection is a legitimate need or desire that He is waiting to fill in us, and we have to let Him get to it by dying to our fleshly ones.

Or do we suppose that we might ever find true and lasting joy apart from dying to ourselves and abiding in Him when He died so that we might fully live in the joy of that abiding? No, true joy will only follow abiding; abiding and dying walk hand in hand, and rejection throws open the door for all three. Man's rejection is central to God's wooing, for it shatters our false expectations of human love and stirs in our hearts the longing for a perfect one. So let us not shrink back fearfully from that which can do us such good and teach us to love as Christ has loved us. With renewed passion, let us ask Him to wrap every affection of our hearts more tightly around Him that every desire might be united with His own and that we might learn to love in a way that sets our lives and the world around us ablaze!

To be despised and rejected and, still, to love—that is the ultimate triumph of Christ in our hearts, for we are never more like Him, never more full of Him, never more surrendered to His heart and His work than when He pours out His love through us to those who will not love us back. When we can stand in the face of bitter, cutting words, contemptuous looks and shaming mockery and still love fiercely but with a gentle and quiet spirit, we will know without doubt that it is His Spirit moving gloriously through us... Lord Jesus, Who so willingly floods our hearts with Your most precious gift, Yourself (and You are Love!), teach us to ever know You more and to rely fully on the love You have for us and ARE for us in infinite supply. Teach us to feast on the abundance of that love, and let it flow freely out of us to the ones who would reject, scorn, mock and hate us, so that they too might one day taste and be consumed by Your perfect love which drives out all fear—Your infinite, immeasurable love which heals all wounds and fills all emptiness and gives meaning to all of our pain. You alone, O LORD, are able to truly and purely love through rejection, but You live gloriously in us, so unleash Your mighty waters through us. Your love is everything, for You are Everything!...

Our all-sufficient Bridegroom is able to work His agape love most perfectly in us when that love poured out to another is not ever reciprocated, for it forces us to finally let Him fill us with Himself alone and to rely completely on His love instead of on the love of another to meet our heart's deepest hunger. The need for His filling IS our deepest hunger, and so our soul comes most alive not when it is loved by our fellow man but when it receives and pours out Jesus' love to our fellow man, expecting nothing in return but more of Him. Thus His love is made complete in us whether they ever love us back or not, and the fear of their rejection is eventually driven out by His perfect and perfecting love.

Even if love is never returned...never even is never in vain, for "love never fails." To love someone, though we mean nothing to them, may seem too cruel a burden for the heart to bear, but the only thing worse than not being loved is to not love, and so the greatest tragedy of love spurned or lost would be to stop loving. For to cease loving that which causes us pain would be to let the pain win, but for as long as we love, really love with Christ's own heart, no matter what else happens, we win.

Love without pain remains unproven and, therefore, is meaningless, but love through pain invokes nothing less than the miraculous and inspires even the incredulous. The purer one's love, the more pain it causes when it is rejected, but only continued love can redeem the pain of loving, and only a perfect Love can heal love's scalding wound; the more scalding the wound, the better primed it is to receive that perfect Love fully into it.

There is great romance to be found in unrequited love that keeps loving, though it is beyond any human emotion or fleshly capacity or mortal understanding. It is a most sacred mystery which cannot be grasped with the head or even the heart but only with the spirit, for it is a love whose connection to Christ remains unsevered. There is perhaps no intimacy to compare to it, for it drives us to Him like nothing else will. It is a love whose longing for the other gives us the greatest insight into God's own aching longing for us. Only when it has cost us everything to keep loving do we begin to understand the smallest fraction of the wildly extravagant love Christ has for us or of the brutally scandalous pain which it has cost Him, and it will leave us in utter awe of Him and in love with Him like we have never been before.

As our focus is turned more and more toward His love for us and toward all of our previous rejecting of it, we will come to clearly see that agape love and rejection have everything to do with the the hearts of the lover and the rejecter and nothing to do with what the beloved and the rejected have done or deserve. For obviously we have done nothing to deserve God's love and He has nothing to deserve our rejection, yet He never stops loving us and we keep rejecting Him in ways we can't even comprehend. No one has ever known more rejection than the only One Who is completely worthy of love. Every time we sin we reject Him in favor of something else, but still He loves us without fail and without end. He loves us because He is love and because He has chosen to set His love on us. We are absolutely and irrevocably loved and accepted in Christ Jesus, and nothing and no one can ever change or mar that love. Our identity is completely secure in Him simply because of Who He is and who He says we are to Him.

Therefore no amount nor depth of rejection by anyone changes anything about who we are in Christ or our worth to Him. We do not need any man's love or acceptance to validate our worth, for it has already been established in the heavenly realms by the only One Whose verdict carries any real and lasting weight. We are significant and precious and holy to God regardless of what anyone else thinks of us or says of us or does to us. What has their rejection got to do with us? Nothing, for we are His! We are chosen and we are beloved! And so we are freed from the fear of rejection when we see that it cannot define us or taint us in the sight of the only One Whose opinion or judgment matters. It's a glorious thing to finally care what no man thinks of us, only the Master, for then we begin to be free to love all men as He loves them and to pray with deepest sincerity, humility and fervor even for those who spitefully reject us.

And even for that one who has hurt us most deeply, who has crushed our heart and thrown us to the wind like chaff without so much as a glance back, we will pray, no longer with only a slight and distant hope that he would return to us but now with a passionate desire to see the prodigal return to the heart of the Father. We will pray, not with a focus on life with him but with a focus on life for him. We will pray for a total and glorious restoration of his life to Christ, even if we will never be there beside him to share in the fellowship and joy of his homecoming, even if we will never get to experience up close in this life the thrill of seeing the Lord make something beautiful yet of his ashes. And this may be the hardest and truest test of our love for him—this painful sacrifice of desiring his absolute best apart from us. It is a wrenching blow to our pride and to our will (not to mention our codependence), for we had so longed to play the Muse and to awaken that beauty in him. So we know we could never yearn or pray for this out of our own strength or wisdom; it is simply too painful to our flesh. We must be led into it and through every delicate step of it by our loving Redeemer, our Bridegroom, as if He were leading us out under a canopy of the starry host and into the most intricate and intimate of moonlit dances. And so we begin to pray and to dance...

But even wrapped in Jesus' arms we are clumsy, stumbling miserably over our own feet. The music is perplexingly unfamiliar and the steps wildly unpredictable, and our toes feel terribly pinched in these new shoes. Maybe this dance is just too hard for us. Maybe we are not yet ready. Maybe we should sit it out for now and try again later when our shoes are a little more broken in or when our heart is a little less broken apart. So we pull away...

But He tenderly beckons us back: Dear and beloved bride, broken-but-beautiful one whom I have made My own, do not push Me away now, not after I have brought you so far. I have many more secrets to share with you and so much more to show you of Myself. But you are not letting Me lead this dance, beloved. Why are you so rigid in My embrace? Why so worried over the next steps? Let go of everything and abandon yourself to My love. Enjoy Me...Follow Me...Lean into Me...Keep watching My face...Let Me move you however I desire us to go...Trust Me...Love Me. Shall we dance, then?

Yes, we shall and we do! As He draws us into Himself, into the prayer of His heart and the dance of His Spirit, and as we give ourself over completely to the impulse of His leading, the details of our words and the precision of our steps give way to the desire and passion of His will, and the pulsating of our heart swirls to the rhythm of His own. The further He pulls us into union with Himself, the more we find ourselves desiring this same intimacy-with-Him for the very one who has so badly hurt us, for we see how badly he himself is hurting without it. We realize now that his running away from us and toward another is just as much a reflection of his insatiable yet misunderstood craving for God as was all of our running toward our own idols (including him). Our soul aches for his redemption and his healing and for his lost sheep's heart to be brought out of darkness and into the marvelous light that shines from Jesus' face, that he might truly know the pleasure of knowing the One Whose pleasure he was created for.

Somehow, through this heightened and mysterious intimacy of prayer for him, we are now discovering a strange and new kind of intimacy with this very one whose intimacy had so often given us the slip, this one whom we had so long loved and lived with but failed to uncover at all, and the fresh wind of it drives us even deeper into the ache of God's own heart for him and for us. It is at the center of that ache that we are finally able to let go of the hurt and the man and leave the matter entirely in God's hands, understanding that the Shepherd's aching heart knows fully all whom He has chosen and will never stop dealing with or seeking after any of His own sheep. And so...

                        We release to Him with a heart of trust
                        This one whom we love and always must
                        We can let go the man and rest because
                        It's out of our hands and always was

But the dance, like the feast, goes on and on, and the more we dance and the more we feast, the more we heal. Our Bridegroom wounds us by His own providence but washes our wounds with His faithfulness and binds them up with His love. The wounds and their healing make us beautiful to Him. They teach us to know Him, to hunger for Him, to enjoy Him and to please Him. And they get us perfectly ready for that most glorious of dances and that most joyous of feasts which are still to come but, perhaps, much closer than we might dare to imagine. It is time to awaken, dear bride of Christ, and to break in our dancing shoes!

"And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because He first loved us."
~ 1 John 4:16-19

"And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."
~ Romans 5:2b-5

"As you come to Him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to Him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."
~ 1 Peter 2:4-5

"He was despised and rejected by mankind,
    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
    He was despised, and we held Him in low esteem.
Surely He took up our pain
    and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
    stricken by Him, and afflicted.
But He was pierced for our transgressions,
    He was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on Him,
    and by His wounds we are healed."
~ Isaiah 53:3-5

"But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things... I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death..."
~ Philippians 3:7-8a,10

"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
~ 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

"For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."
~ 2 Corinthians 1:5

"'Blessed are you who hunger now,
    for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who weep now,
    for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when people hate you,
    when they exclude you and insult you
    and reject your name as evil,
        because of the Son of Man.
Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their ancestors treated the prophets...But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you...Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.'"
~ Luke 6:21-23,27-28,36

"Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always strive to do what is good for each other and for everyone else. Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus."
~ 1 Thessalonians 5:15-18

"You make known to me the path of life;
    You will fill me with joy in Your presence,
    with eternal pleasures at Your right hand."
~ Psalm 16:11

"I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
~ Ephesians 3:16-21

There's a certain peace that settles inside you when you hear the wind whip through the forest, the sound soothes you until your muscles quiver with joy and you begin grinning with delight as the cool air runs soft fingers down your spine and sends shivers back through you. That was the feeling going through Fayowin as he stalked his prey, a nimble buck that mindlessly grazed in the snowy glade. Fayowin was a wolf, tall and regal, his fur ran a silver-white with intricate blue lines spiraling and writhing around his muscled body. His eyes glowed pure white in the night and shimmered in the daylight. The fangs lining his jaw were longer than the other wolves'... then again he was also larger than his alpha as well. Fayowin saw everything clearer and faster than the most skilled hunters in his pack, and he was also the swiftest. He should have felt proud of his uniqueness, but he felt outcast instead. The other hunters shunned him and disliked hunting alongside him, leaving Fayowin to hunt alone.

Today was no different. It was his turn to hunt and he had to hunt alone. If he failed, the pack would force him out into the cold. "If the pack starves, the hunter freezes," was the motto of his alpha, Alexei. Fayowin narrowed his white eyes and drew in the scent of the deer. As he did, he caught the hint of a she-wolf nearby, not of his pack. Distracted for an instant, he snapped back and sprinted for the deer, lunging for it and tearing into its throat and ripping out the windpipe and blood vessels all in one bite. As the smell of blood coated his senses, he began to feel uneasy and whirled around to see a silver wolf snarling at him. It was the she-wolf he had sensed earlier. She stood just a little shorter than him and had strange markings of her own: she bore black marks under her eyes and one on her forehead that resembled a paw. What struck him the most was the band around her upper foreleg. His eyes wandered as he observed her and she growled, bringing his attention back to her glaring green eyes.
"That... was my ****!" she growled. "I don't know how you managed to get it before me, and I don't know how you managed to escape my notice. Who are you?!"
Fayowin sneered and raised an eyebrow, "This, my dear, is MY ****. I've had my eyes on it for a while now. And frankly, this is my territory as well, and unless you want to become part of my territory, I'd suggest you treat me with respect."
She edged closer to him, surprised and infuriated at this male's straightforwardness. But there was something about that and his scent that appealed to her though. "I'm not leaving without this deer."
Fayowin chuckled, "It looks like you will be leaving without it, whoever you are."
"My name... is Feiria!" she licked her lips hungrily, "and that is MY deer!"
Fayowin narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he studied her. Even through her winter coat, he could see the outline of her ribcage and could smell the desperation on her scent. He saw Feiria's muscles contract as she prepared to lunge at him. He sidestepped and she landed face-first in the snow, a mere inch from the warm deer meat. She looked at him hungrily, almost pleading. Fayowin sighed and nodded his head once, after which Feiria voraciously tore into the carcass.

He slowly meandered towards the center of the clearing and flopped down into the snow. He could hear the she-wolf eating ravenously behind him as he thought of his next move. If he returned to the pack, he'd be ridiculed and forced to live in the snow. If he stayed out here he faced the same problem.

Fayowin flattened his ears back and started to doze off, still listening to Feiria eat his ****. He began dreaming of gaping mountain passes, tall forests, and warm valleys. He felt oddly warm, not freezing cold as he had expected. He didn't care though, warmth was a gift in the winter. He slept peacefully until nightfall overtook the forest and the moonlight shone down and illuminated his fur, the lines becoming like blue fire. His eyes would have glowed if they were open, but they remained oblivious to the change in scenery until a cold wind blew through his fur and he shivered awake. He nearly jumped when he realized why he was so warm: the she-wolf lay curled up, pressed against him, sound asleep. He tilted his head slightly as he watched her sleep, probably the most peaceful she'd been in a long time. Fayowin would've hated to ruin his gift to her, albeit an unwilling one.
Feiria woke up soon after midnight, and gazed fearfully into Fayowin's glowing white eyes, taking in his
Cynical stare and his glowing body. She whispered, "I've heard of your kind..."
he looked curiously at her, "my kind?"
"the star wolves.."
he averted his gaze, "Never heard of them.. I'm just a normal wolf.."
Feiria glared at him, "You're glowing, *******.. Not normal. Unless.... Unless your whole pack is made of star wolves!" her face seemed to light up as she said it.
Fayowin whipped his head around, "No! I'm the only one like this..." he looked solemnly down at his feet as he finished.
She blinked, dumbfounded. Clearing her throat, she said, "I really should get back to my pack. They'll be worried about me if I stay out for much longer." she glanced at the massive deer behind them and sighed quietly.
"Your whole pack is starving...aren't they?" said Fayowin quietly.
Feiria nodded and he stood up and walked through the snow silently towards the deer. "you'll need to lead me to your pack if they're to get this meat."
Feiria blinked again, then nodded, getting up and starting off  
Towards the north. Fayowin gripped the deer's neck and drug the carcass behind him as he walked. After a half hour of walking, Feiria howled long and low, signaling her pack that she was near. Fayowin sighed as he heard their howls respond. He thought, there will be no howls for me tonight...
As they neared her pack's clearing, a group of young wolves sprinted towards them, rushing past Feiria and surrounding Fayowin. "Who is this outsider, Feiria? Why did you bring him here?"
there were five of them and they all went into attack mode, growling and circling him.
Feiria attempted to stop them before they got into a fight, but one of them pounced, and in a flash Fayowin had him pinned to the ground with his fangs around the wolf's neck. Fayowin watched the wolves around him react, stepping back and glancing at each other. Feiria shouted at them to stop but they didn't seem to hear her immediately, backing down only as Fayowin's growl tore through the trees, echoing throughout the forest
. They finally heard her, "he's a star wolf!" by now a crowd had gathered around them, Feiria's packmates watching Fayowin closely. He let go of the young wolf beneath his paws, who quickly scampered away, and Fayowin sat up straight and tall, his markings and eyes glowing for all to see. The wolves ooh'd and ahh'd amongst themselves before the alpha stepped forward and looked him up and down. "You killed this deer, yes?"
"I did."
"Why bring it here? We are strangers to you."
Fayowin glanced at Feiria, who shifted, uncomfortable with the silence. "I brought it here because i could tell that this pack needed the meat more than my own." Fayowin looked directly at Feiria and continued, "besides... She saw it first."
(End of day one of writing, really enjoyed it, look forward to writing again)
Fayowin perched high upon an rock outcropping, overlooking the clearing below and the wolves within. The alpha had allowed him to stay, grateful for the meat. Feiria was pressed against him again, but this time Fayowin didn't mind. He enjoyed the warmth that she provided and felt at ease around her. She nuzzled his cheek affectionately, a move that surprised him enough that he turned to face her, brushing her nose in the process. He gazed fondly into her eyes for a moment before standing. "I have to return to my pack."
Feiria looked shocked, "No, stay here with us. We could use a hunter like you. Plus you're a star wolf, and it doesn't seem like your pack appreciates that."
He let the words sink in before replying, "I have to go. I'll return in the morning." Seeing the desperate and doubtful look on her face, he added, "I promise. I will come back."
Fayowin walked to the edge of the forest, the glow of his body soon disappearing from Feiria's view.
F­ayowin sprinted relentlessly back to his territory, smelling the familiar and not so pleasant scents of his packmates. The smell of blood ran thick in the air as he neared the clearing. The moonlight cast eerie shadows around him and he could feel the eyes of the wolves watching him as he reached the gore pile. The mound of bones and rotting flesh dripped blood into the white snow.
"You're late. And emptypawed. You know what that means, filth." the voice was that of his alpha, Marroy, who stood three feet tall at the shoulder, a whole foot and a half shorter than Fayowin. His fur was a mottled black with a grey underbelly.
Fayowin bared his fangs, the longest being three inches long, and he growled, "My name.. is Fayowin."
Marroy cackled in the darkness, "So straightforward. That's unlike you. No matter, you failed to bring us fresh meat. As punishment, you'll be reminded why we protect you in the first place."
Fayowin heard growls emanating from the trees. The pack of around 25 wolves was massive compared to other packs, and there were enough hunters to go around. Fayowin took a step back and let his eyes adjust so he could see them in the trees.
"You don't protect me, Marroy! You fear me!"
Marroy laughed again, "Not from where I'm standing, Mutt. You look pretty frightened." Fayowin took another step back. "Run! Run! Give us some entertainment!"
The wolves started bounding out of the trees and began chasing Fayowin out of the clearing. They seemed to be pouring from every shadow. He ran faster than ever before, the trees blurring past him as he tried to get away. He ran for what seemed like an eternity before seeing the snowy valley at the edge of the forest. He added a burst of speed and instantly regretted it. A rock beneath the snow tripped him and pain shot up his left foreleg. He tumbled end over end in a heap of blue and white, coming to a stop twenty feet away. Fayowin heard the pack coming for him and he tried to crawl away, but to no avail; the pain was too much. He whimpered as he was surrounded, and shut his eyes tight as he felt them bite and claw at him, retreating only after there was a ****** pool around the star wolf. Marroy walked slowly up to him after they had gone and said, "I hope you die out here. If you aren't, we'll make sure that changes." Then the alpha left him there, cold, ******, broken and alone.
* (End of Day two/Start of day three of writing and i'm really hooked on this, I believe this may be one of my better stories...)*
Feiria lay silently on the rock outcropping above the pack and she thought of the star wolf. Something about the breeze brought thoughts to her mind.  
Feiria lifted her nose into the air as the smell of blood became present. She sniffed intently and heard her packmates do the same. She looked in the direction that Fayowin had left in and saw a dark form slowly shambling through the shadowy flora towards her. As it neared her she could see that it was dripping a dark liquid, trailing it through the snow in a scarlet path. "Its Fayowin.." she thought to herself. "Why are his eyes so dark? Why isn't he glowing?"
she rushed to his side and the smell of his blood was almost overwhelming. There were numerous bites and cuts all over him and his left foreleg seemed broken.
Feiria called for the healer, an older female named Sheya, and supported Fayowin as they walked to the glade and waited for the healer. Fayowin collapsed in the center of the clearing, the moonlight hitting him directly, making the blood seem black against his white fur.
Feiria whimpered helplessly, waiting for Fayowin to answer, but his eyes seemed so lifeless that
She felt it was almost a false hope. When Sheya finally arrived, the blood had stopped flowing and his breathing had slowed until he was asleep. When the healer examined him, she looked puzzled.
"what's the matter, Elder?"
Sheya pondered a moment before saying, "His wounds have healed. I'd say its a miracle, seeing as he lost so much blood."
Feiria examined the sleeping wolf herself and found the elders words to be true; there wasn't a scratch left on him. "Leave him here, the sunlight will warm him once daylight comes and his fur is thicker than ours so the cold will not affect him as much." the gathered wolves sat in silence as Feiria washed the blood from his fur with snow and lay down next to him, pressing her body against his. The blue lines on Fayowin dimmed and brightened in tune with his heartbeat, and Feiria listened as her own beat matched it.
...End of day 3....
Fayowin felt like he was in another world, this one so much quieter, but at the same time he could sense every noise, every movement, every vibration. His fur was no longer the bright white it once was, but rather a deep black with crimson lines flowing round him. He was lying down, surrounded by a wolf pack, Feiria pressed against him for warmth. He saw, or rather sensed her spirit energy, a type of green fire that outlined her entire body as she slept. Fayowin stood up, thinking to wake her and let her know he was alright, but she hadn't moved. And neither had he; his white furred body remained as it was a moment ago, but he was looking at it as if in another body. He took a step back as he realized he was roaming about in his spirit form. He looked around at the pack and none of the gathered wolves seemed to notice him. He exited the circle of onlookers and gazed up at the falling moon, watching it descend into the horizon, chased away by the rays of the sun coming over the mountaintops to the east. As the sun peeked over the ridge, Fayowin caught something out of the corner of his eye, a dark mass that didn't fit right with the rest of the environment. He looked and saw two sets of glowing purple eyes in the shade. He called out to them, hoping they might hear. "Hey! Can you see me?"
The eyes looked at each other and then back at him, staring for a moment before turning and running.
"Hey, wait!!" Fayowin called after them and began to chase them deeper and deeper into the mysterious forest.The beings moved faster than Fayowin had anticipated, disappearing soon after the chase had begun. Fayowin stood there in the middle of the woods, panting and searching for the elusive forms. After a moment he saw them at the very edge of his vision, their eyes glowing brighter, almost as if they were taunting him forward. Snarling, Fayowin bolted towards them and they led him on a winding path marked by a barely discernable scent trail. The smell was that of burnt wood and crushed pine needles and was oddly alluring to Fayowin as he ran. It seeemed as if he were running for ages, the sun and moon rotating numerous times around him as he traveled over mountains and rivers, through forests and valleys. On the thirteenth solar rotation, the figures finally stopped, joined by eleven other figures surrounding a circular rock with vines and overgrowth covering its base.
As he neared the figures, he saw that they all looked like him, long furred and covered in glowing lines. "Star wolves... Like me..."
The wolves all surrounded the dais and watched him with razor sharp eyes, watching his every move. As he gazed back, Fayowin noticed that each of them had some form of a trident mark right below their left eye, the color matching the lines tracing their bodies. He felt the urge to move forward, as if an instinct were telling him to stand in the center of the circle. Fayowin stood, all eyes on him as he waited for whatever was about to come.
....I have nothing to say to you HP... I dislike you at the moment....
Nightfall was coming swiftly, the moon and the stars swirling into place above them, reaching their peak and then halting completely. All of time and
Jeffrey Robin Jun 2016


Broken circumstance


Sells her ... FLOWER


But not her righteousness




hippie boy

What do you say

Are you gonna keep your honor

And preserve the purity ?

Flower child !

Earth mother

To be


Nurturer and healer

For all to see

Eddie Starr Feb 2014
I stand before you the Healer of my soul.
I fall upon my knees to worship you, my Healer.
For your ways are good, your ways are pure and holy.
I will worship you O God, for you are the Healer of my soul.
I will stand in Awe of you, for I have seen what you have done.
So I shall fall upon my face, to worship you O Lord God.
For you are so worthy, you are so good and awesome.
Mikoarenas Nov 2015
I have read the poem you wrote for me late at night hundreds of times.
I read it when my mind is constantly doubting itself.
I read it when my eye sockets are continuously flowing waterfalls and I've been drained of my confidence.
I read it when I need it.

You see those little poetic words created by a beautiful mind are my reminders that I'm strong.
That this life is not as bad as it seems.
That I have what it takes.

When looking into your eyes I see a healer.
Somebody who fixes wounds with words.
A kid at heart who fixes minds with short phrases because he is to scared to encounter his own.
A healer who needs healing.

I'd like to thank you.
For creating a boost of confidence for me.
A beautiful piece of art that'll live in my head for years to come.
Something I can go back to without worrying it'll be gone when I get there.

I hope you find someone who can give you what you gave me.
Because I believe you need it too.
A boost of confidence that'll never fade.
A 3AM poem
Pepper Dove May 2017
by the torturous Suns heat
That beats
and burns
my fragile bare feet
Short distance, now miles to come
with dried up lungs
from unforgiving Sun
Twinkles of first starlight,
a warning to hide
for cowerdly Sun,
the Moon is to arise
Wrapping its blanket of energy
gently around what yearns
for the nocturnal healer
to soothe Earth from it's burns
melinoe immortal Jul 2017
'Healer' time take thy poor, black sheep,
and stop it from wondering
in the dangerous corners
of the mind,
because heaven and hell collided
inside a body and in unity they came
in the presence of all those
who conspired to it.

From the frontal to the occipital lobe,
dark thoughts obstruct
the brain’s watershed regions
and thanatos they bring.
The soul cannot take this coffin

The stone is too heavy to carry;
sliding down and pushing up,
every night the pushing starts,
for the dawn, her courage to crack.

It may be like Hooke's law they say,
but bodies break down,
when people apply the extra force
and so do the souls,
long before.
Sethnicity May 2015
They say time heals all wounds and quite often I agree/ yet some can tanker ous uneven eternity/ The buffer of shock waves they ebb and rise unceasingly/ The sun rays wind rain earthquakes weather is me, uneasily.

Yay my legs have sea come custom to storm after storm/ I for one have grown weary of water tho running comes easily/
So I retracted an iron heart East seeking warm understanding.

Time is a healer but in a water world all wounds bleed into the ocean/ silence will keep salt off the tongue but will not spare the flesh/ Even with an iron heart held high and to the side we hobble and wobble none the less.

What is truly needed is a seamed shore line/ to rest towards the west, digest the sunsetty passing/ to release my cast iron heart into soft earth/ so that I remember from where I came and observe how much we have changed.

I have feared the setting sun long enough/I will build a bridge from sea solitude to land understanding. We have come a long way through a space time ether. All things are better together and time is a healer.
Dlusionl13 Jun 2018
You are a powerful wizard
While I am a mere mage
Spellbound by your eyes
I am trapped in your cage

I am being held captive
In the beauty of your mystical mind
Lost in the spells of your charm
My spirit I am unable to find

Cursed I am by your magic
Wandering in the depths of the
Maybe yours maybe mine
Whose it is I cannot determine

Entangled is my fate
In the strings of your destiny
You are the healer of my thoughts
Saving me from my agony

Bewitched is my heart
Breaking by the spells you cast
Caged in the colours you hide
I am being punished by my past

Enchanted by you I am
The one reviled by all
But I see through your masks
You are drowning in your pain's rainfall

Enticed are our souls by each other
I hope this is not an another treachery
Because love for me
Was always a wicked sorcery
johnny fundyga Oct 2015
(part one)
heal me, my healer, and hear me relay
sounds of a silence that sink as I say
magic makes matter with souls of the sun
bringing to light what, by life, must be done
beauty by name knows but nothing by book
tailor your terra to tempt me to look
know not the vices of violence and voice;
choose but the chances that chose us by choice
red wind is rising to rival the rain
following footprints that paint without pain
empty; the forests of temples of fate
homeward this path that is lulling my gait
dew makers sleeping, they shake as they rest
scared of a world where the sun rises west
frost coming clean to reclaim healthy cause
blooming a garden that cries when it thaws
unlearning language for oneness in tone
singing with nature's implacable drone
gleam of the ethers from air and from earth
riding the waves of celestial worth
following love and its serpentine trails
soft; carried on the most tempered of sails
wind-sung we sing on the prophetic seas
kisses of bliss keep the sea-sick at ease
deep all directions the sapphire stretch
picture abyss only makers could sketch
lost for the never on tidal unknowns  
oceans are homes made the same as our bones
animate majesty, mantra for those
restlessly bested by those who oppose
we know you're starving and freezing and scared
killed by the meaningless secrets you’ve bared
candles can carry the dead to their graves
no need to loosen the nooses of naves
see through the formless and faceless facade
hear the diffusive vibrations of god
people all speaking, both living and dead
talking in tandem like spindles of thread
how do we live? for the skin or the core?
how can the soldiers of peace fight for war?
angels so tangled with angles of death
breed all the beings that banish my breath
greatly immune of municipal hell
make much the matters of mannered men well
monarch; the meshwork, are left without hearts
merging the dreamtime emergence of arts
deviate cautiously from divine hold
rewrite the writings the passion bells tolled
dancing with winds lets the words conjure clouds
stillness; embracing the peace that it shrouds
promise to calm us for what he destroys
wakes up your namesake in lieu of the noise
gather the essence which rather plays chance
echoing off of the echo’s expanse
colors grow colder with notes of old news
shout to the horses out running in twos
wonderful people asleep in their beds
bellow, like autumns of yellows and reds
shades of the greens making credo machines
halting the ships just to justify means
vision, a visage of purples and blues
kissing the dusty-foot soles of our shoes
imprints of infinite fires aflame
amity call of the indigo aim
mother; a father of lands to be shown
birthing grey earth that will neighbor our own
in a glass box made of everyone's dreams
warmed by the water; I see them as streams
golden, we hold them; we stand for the purge
giving our gifts to the gods that emerge
crawling from places that replace the skies
stories of travels unravel third eyes
walk to the edge and discern which way's up
sip from the ripples that form in your cup
heal me, my healer, and stay with me still
manifest fate through the use of free will
stable; the fable: "I love, and I hope."
foresee the patterns like kids skipping rope
seven significant; twelve of the whole
hallow the hologram holding the soul
what changed the orchids to middlemist red?
why when they speak do I hear her instead?
similar ways are our motionless gaze
you make my waking on tireless days
though I may see by the sombering me
closing the crypt keeps a dreamer's eye free
patient, the chaser, emaciate me
force me to feel all the feelings as she
start with the atom and move to the skies
all this as rain is contained in her eyes
glutton of love, for the love's all around
grounded by groundings found bounded by sound
warmth of the heart kindled twins of a spark
circles that need not now be without arc
knowing we’re growing and where we belong  
push north to bring forth to celebrate strong
talk of amends and the love that it sends
space is displaced but the love never ends
bracing the dawn as we’re drawn to the sky  
heal me, my healer, the timing is nigh

(part two)
heal me my healer and hear me relay
time is a wheel that will steal us away
roll through the hills where there’s love in the grass
warming the shivering spirits we pass
far back behind us, you’ll find that we’ve been
down to the depths of a place deep within
deep down the earth, soul been snared by the pit
happiness, patience, ascend all from it
ravel the helix, the twist in the pond
crawling from water, the portal beyond
perish traditions see unchanging eyes
grasp at what’s gasping for air in disguise
free of the voices that rattle like glass
free from the flesh and its form and its mass
there is a matrix that’s written in code
such are the numbers that map out the road
see our blood running like lights through our veins
fractions of laserlight fluid like trains
make the connection that’s always between
what is organic, divine, and machine
negative entropy, fall like the snow
bring me to places that only you know
somewhere between the Euclidian line
realms where the parallel coalesce fine
vanquish the cubic dimensional fears
if we are circular, let us be spheres
quiet the screamers of salient winds
crumbling science where silence begins
pyro, the spires of fire consume
water that’s pouring for lores of the bloom
unbounded air that will carry the seeds
planted in earth to fulfill earthly needs
dreams of white elephants enter her side
out walks the teacher that under trees died
what of the stable where shepherds were brought
stealing the metaphor cradle with thought
answers of split the antiquity mind
pulse of the gatekeeper stored sages blind
author, the abstract of poetry eyes
push back the blackness that pours from the skies
hands of the clock are like mages that lie
from whence the beast burnt the cradle does cry
bind the entwining, the ivy, the bound
love-like mosaic, archaic the sound
dawn flows from space with the bells nature tolls
waking the sleepers to rouse body’s souls
fairies are dancing the campfire still
long after centuries burnt up their will
hum of the cello as golden leaves fall
break in the day as the light makes its crawl
crest of the desolate mountains we’ll climb
vexing the loneliness owning our time
truth is a flower that sprouts when we sing
ever we resonate winter to spring
all the white rain that tastes pure on the tongue
must have been born as the raindancer sung
stolen our sight twilit lily pond blue
take too our ears for the ambience through
trust flowing from the first cycle of sun
laughter, my love, for the world has begun
all of the forms of the goddess’s heart
come out, I see them, the whole in the part
it’s in her smile, her voice, her embrace
look not beyond all the love in her face!
dancer, the astronaut gravity holds
stay so the motions don’t hide in the folds
burn the reality, heat of the flame
toss in the fire your face and your name
let us be over the bridge made of black
river of white can ignite coming back
knowledge, devotion, and action create
blankets to reach for the sorrowless state
human, the weak, and the fallible one
soon come the day where we’re clothed with the sun
how clean’s the road between thought and the words?
can’t they just sing like the crickets and birds?
cast of naivety born with your birth
claim same supreme as all men of the earth
never again shall they meet face to face
faces are fakeness that stand in our place
off to the forest, renunciate mind
grieve not for all can be lost to mankind
I am thy pupil, I’ll sit by thy feet
searching for answers somewhere in the beat
save me, my savior and sleep while I wake
take now your rest and diverge dreamer’s lake
swim and be free from the shackles of skin
swim and explore where no person has been
shape now your art and your worlds shall unwind
open the eyelid, the eye in your mind
love is too finite a word to contain
all of the infinite lives that remain
hold I resolve to spend all of my days
lost in my poetry testing the ways
best to explain what it is that I feel
vibrating low somewhere lost but still real
struck, as if lightning had cast from the sky
answers I knew hid from taciturn eye
let us be one as we’re destined to be
I will be you, my love, you will be me
-two hundred lines written for someone at some point about a reason to live.
--it's now an ironic piece.
Senor Negativo Sep 2012
I desire only to comfort you, you must believe..
Truly comfort.
Like the first fire of winter,
when you come in from the frigid night,
And collapse in the cloud soft chair
As the warmth of the hearth, restores your humanity.
Until, in every cell in your body, you feel renewed.
I know how to close the wounds of your spirit,
These scars you see, upon my soul
Were once gaping gashes, that oozed agony,
But they have healed,
Let me do the same for you.
I will take my time, releasing the pent up tension,
That has wrapped your tense muscles,
In gnarly braids, of stress, with my restorative touch.
I have several bandages, the bleeding can be stemmed,
And arrested for good.
I will kiss every bruise, and cut,
Until nothing hurts anymore.
I shall lift you to your feet if you fall,
And soothe, mend, and repair you as a whole.
Anyone could see you have been hurt before.
But has anyone ever came forward,
And acknowledged your pain?
These cuts, and scars you bear
That you believe
have made you the strong woman you are today,
Are holding you back,
From the pleasures you deserve.
As the pendulum swings
Your mood rises and falls,
And it pains me to witness your suffering
My beloved one.
You who bring such joy
Should not suffer so much.
Your past is marked and marred.
Let me be your future,
One filled with the full measure of pleasure you deserve.
I can not guarantee that harm will not befall you again,
But when it does,
I will be there to caress it away...
Because I am your healer.
Sy Lilang Jul 2014
Ain't blemished with blood
There're queues of personas
Trying to nick every motion and shift
Every angst of the heart
Until they're hopes sink in.

On those blue and hard things
They find comfort from each infirmity
There're linings all over
Maneuvering every groove
Shaving the people out
To the finished and whitened stucco.

Gold steels are not embroidered
The hand of the room
Looks inviting
With warmth and fondness ,
Some drives in
Unlocked and melting every delusion

The sky speaks
The clouds has no mutual feelings
Acting odd and remarkable
No rainbow to be seen.

Blonde arrows
With every breath one takes
With every move one tries
Choosing to hold close the lacks
Accepting every fault
For indeed, at the latter days
**The Healer Himself was the Way.
Now waiting for my turn in the Hospital. Too nervous, but the Lord gives me peace. My friends (both earthly and spiritual friends) told me to go for a second opinion. I was scheduled to undergo my second surgery in the afternoon. Yes, today.. But I thank the Lord. He knows what He is doing. I pray and claim that all who are here will be healed by the Lord. Thank You Jesus! My faith has made me well!
Bree Jul 2018
They say I’m a healer
But is that true
Because despite years of love
I never healed you
Do they mean, instead, I search out men that need healing?
Do I chase this pain because I yearn for feeling?
Maybe I am not a healer
Maybe I am just naive
To think I can change lives
And to think this is more important than my own needs
Robert Wendt Jan 2017
The Day a Healer Did Weep,

The day did start with desire in the power of prayer,
Yond day would end in horrible, lingering, despair.

The moniters sounded a wretched shrill of doom,
In a blink, an instant, I wast whisked from the cubiculo,

The time did do cometh with swift, and desperate, finality,
While I did pray, and did beg God's holp, did do cometh lethality.

The leadeth leech would not giveth in until did pull away,
With the hurlyburly's end, We did weep together yond day,

This healer with emotion withdrawn, did do break down as a tyke,
The lady did has't this loving effect on all, in the very same like.

Ay, a life ended one warm, sunny, day in K.C,
Nay one erned, but doctors, nurses, and me,

Thither wast nay flowers, nay mourners, nay half staff,
Mine heart ripped ope as with a warrior's gaff.  

I cherished, and did protect the lady all our time together,
I did fix all, did maketh things right, cometh high water, or nether,

I couldst nae fix this, nay matter how hard I would tryeth,
Thou can not imagine such teen as I did watch that lady vade, and die,

Nary one knave, nay matter whom they may ever beest,
Can beest did replace, Each life is precious, I wouldst decree,

I wilt declare this to thou, All those yond would listen,
Taketh nothing for did grant, leaveth not a thing missing.

Liveth each moment with thy love as t'would beest thy last,
Leaveth nay regrets in thy future, or eyeless in thy past,

Still cogitate thy love as thou did has't from the first,
Tf 't be true thou pause too long, thou can nea quench such a thirst.

Thither is nary joy in living with regret, teen, and grief,
Liveth each day did share as a gift, and treasure this life brief.  


"The Day a Healer Wept,,

The day started with hope in the power of prayer,,
That day would end in horrible, lingering, despair,,

The moniters sounded a wretched shrill of doom,,
In a blink, an instant, I was whisked from the room,,

The time came with swift, and desperate, finality,,
While I prayed, and begged God's help, came lethality,,

The lead Doctor would not give up until pulled away,,
With the battle's end, We wept together that day,,

This doctor with emotion withdrawn, broke down as a tyke,,
She had this loving effect on all, in the very same like,,

Yes, a life ended one warm, sunny, day in K.C.,,
No one grieved, but doctors, nurses, and me,,

There were no flowers, no mourners, no half staff,,
My heart ripped open as with a warrior's gaff,,

I cherished, and protected her all our time together,,
I fixed all, Made things right, Come high water, or nether,,

I couldn't fix this,  no matter how hard I would try,,
You can not imagine such pain as I watched her fade, and die,,

No one person, no matter whom they may ever be,,
Can be replaced, Each life is precious, I would decree,,

I will say this to you, All those that would listen,,
Take nothing for granted, Leave not a thing missing,,

Live each moment with your love as it would be the last,,
Leave no regrets in your future, or hidden in your past,,

Forever cogitate your love as you had from the first,,
If you pause too long, you can never quench such a thirst,,

There is no joy in living with regret, pain, and grief,,
Live each day shared as a gift, and treasure this life brief,,
traces of being Nov 2016
indifferent to unplanned pathways  
destiny knows not enslaving bounds
pathways crisscross at befallen crossroads
knowing all roads lead to all roads

restlessly searching through the ache writhing within,
the voice of my soul speaks crystalline
through the hidden portal of my heart

beckoning the wounded healer within
be at home in the silent darkness of suffering
to perceive the gems of awakening light;

embrace the lessons where the wounding leads us
to bring forth a healing reincarnation,
intimately feeling the collective pulse of humanity echo
a wholeness in a deeper level our being

the only spark to rekindle a flame blown out
a soul’s assent to the labyrinth through the wound
snippets from a conscious ramble;
a shameless attempt at understanding a potentially higher conscious  self
written to advocate for, to support all wounded healers
that often experience the potential gifts of a wounded heart

if this is "too deep" i'll just keep trying
to find my way through the dark maze on my own

all apologies ... wild is the wind

all in all is all we are ♡
ZinaLisha Apr 2014
sing into my deaf ears
sweet melodies
for my melancholy fears
caress my silent lips
make my words come alive
a moan may slip;
the sweetest cries.
sniff out the smell
that has caused men hell;
for a whiff of heaven
morals they bail
no lies. I can honestly tell
that you will provide sensation
extremely well...
blow kisses of love
in my blind eyes
Can you please,
give me sight?
so I can see this healer
named Dr.Might
who claims he can put feeling
back into my paraplegic body
on this night!
Latiaaa Jan 2014
You have ripped bellbottoms a shaky smile,
The sandy curls that cascade down your back.

You smoke till your lungs go black,
You sit in the blazing sun meditating till you go tan.

You play the tunes of The Beatles and Jimi Hendrix,
That suede jacket you wear every Tuesday.

You decorate your room with blankets so the colors keep you company,
The daisies you wear in your hair till they go brown.

You let your cigarette dangle from your thin lips,
That gritty sound you make when you form words.

Your eyes are always clouded with memories,
You wear those circular shades to hide from people.

You wipe the tears off of people’s faces,
Smile when theres nothing to smile about.

Your hands are tatted with henna, and you wear the shirt of a tie-dye spider.
All you eat is trail-mix of pistachios and sun-dried apples.

You ride in a Volkswagen with windows down to feel the breeze.
Your peace sign is like “the healer” to all pain.

You take a pull off hookah and a bite of shrooms just to chase away the madness.
You create your own reality.

When the rain falls down you fling your head back and yell to the world,
The face you make when you see animals.
He’s like an eagle, ready to sore through the sky and bring positivity.

Don’t ever tell me you’re not a hippie, because I’ve never seen anyone as unique as you.
Drunk poet Apr 2017
My soul aches,
Like a brain suffering from tumor.
My soul breaks,
Like that of a new day,
Telegraphing my tears  along with dolor,
Sormoning the beams of the sun each day.
So I sought this healer amongst waters,
Where birds sings and monkeys dance
Along the boulevards of blindness,
In a great hall of fame and great matters.
And herds converged, minds convened
Only with the Polaroids of sightlessness.
Like a drunkard she prays,
Welcome! Welcome! she says,
To an abode of hypocrisy, jealousy, blasphemy and misery.
The therapeutic healer, healing in agony,
Dealing in the paradise of nightmares.
With me  your fears shall fall like that of a lost boy's tears
And your pain meet the sweetening balm of my embrace.
She would make a good gift in heaven,
But even a better bribe in hell.

Balogun David {drunk poet}
Drunk Poets Society
© 2017
For a friend of mine..... Tony
Moleko Sula Aug 2015
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My lost love spells for women can bring back an ex-boy friend or ex-husband binding you to your boyfriend or husband. When they come back my lost love spells will prevent them from leaving you again so that you stay together and love each other. If you have a lost a lover and you want me to bring them back with his powerful lost love spells
one of the things from which humans derive their greatest joy from is finding a person in which they have a deep friendship with. The joy comes from the great and memorable times shared with this people, the good times and the fun moments shared with these persons.

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The Terry Tree Dec 2014
Be the Warrior Spirit and
Fight for the light
A soldier for creation
With all of your might
Projecting the love
Of all Saints
Day and night

Walk with great fire
With a passionate rattle
Ignite and inspire
An affectionate battle
Beam from the heart and
Jump into the saddle

A Lightworker
A Healer
A Mystical Weaver
Stand with Divine Mother
As a Cure-all Receiver

Spirit will guide you
Empowered by faith
Our weapon is love
****** forward with grace
As we kneel down to pray

Push light in the earth
Watch it roll through the cracks
Crawl up every fountain
Follow the tracks and
Inhabit the mountains
Spread out in the grass and
Reach up to the sun
Reflecting it back
With love
Only love

Be the Warrior Spirit
Fight for the light
A soldier for creation
With all of your might
Projecting the love
Of all Saints
Day and night
Projecting the love
Of all Saints
Day and night

Ashmita Jan 2013
He walks, he strolls, he runs.
With varying paces he controls everyone’s existence.
Clocked with age, hooded with hatred,
Shredded and withered is the cloth which entangles him,
A dark, unwanted figure,
Lurking, waiting.
Humanities’ burden on his shoulder,
Their tears and suffering etched on his skin,
He is scarred with our mistakes.
Hater of joy, he lives,
Making the clock gallop as the laughter pours,
The hours are lost behind the happiness,
And all that’s left is foreboding, longing.
His vicious cycle pays heed only to the troubled ones,
Making them wait in pain and suffering,
Stretching time, making their souls older than they are.
But by doing so, he heals,
He slowly but gradually stops the tears,
By offering the dragged hours, he looks after them,
Registers every move,
And gradually their lives are put back into track.
Their existence is scarred, souls aimless,
But they live on, and that’s what matters right?
He is time, and time is all we need,
For love and hope are temporary,
Time with its experience, rules over them,
Without time, they are mere momentary lapse of nerves.
Hidden behind everyone’s story.
He will bring you to life,
And when he feels your time has come,
He will accompany you, till forever and beyond.
For he is the holder of forever,
He is time, the healer.
Mum i miss you so much
It's been a year nearly already
the time is no factor
And time is not a healer
I never imagined i would feel so bad
The rejection
the grief
the hurt has lingered on and on

I never forget your big brown eyes
your smile fades away into the sunset bloom
I longed for you to love me more
but, you weren't able too.
So for now i must not
beat myself about it.

Why, does it hurt so much
like a dull ache longing
to be soothed by bundles of cuddles
How can this wound be healed
How long must i suffer feeling like a squashed tomato.

Don't know if i am making any sense
Mum you are free and up in the sky
But yes i have to live with this pain
It claws away at me like a black cat.
Sometimes i can feel you laugh at me
because you still have me tied to your apron strings.

Please God take this pain away
I don't want to hurt anymore
I need you Father to wipe away
the tears.
I need you to heal this wound
I cannot carry on like this
My life is in *******
caught in a prison with my thoughts
Negative ones .....

Will you let me go spirit
stop tormenting me
day and night
Styles 12 Apr 2017
After she broke through the gates she said her prayers were trapped behind enemy lines. Her Fukishima tears crashed poisonous waves to foreign shores.

I knew how it felt to be thrown in a hole left with vipers.

They still hiss at me in nightmares except now I confront them, unafraid of their venom.

My first dream paddled me through a lush heavenly river, a beautiful angel rowed, I sat at the bow facing her.

She told me long stories I cannot remember. I never felt so safe as when I spent time with her.

Time spent in a fallen world made pure waters metamorphosis to chemical troubles.

My prayers joined all the others
and sailed the jail free sky of hope.

I left her memory in a place my voice cannot travel into. Or maybe it can.

I wonder if she knows her stories paddle through my veins struggling for remembrance.

They say empathy is a wounded healer, I wonder if they know I have felt them in the distance.

Cries so intense my sensitivity got scarred on a tree engraved with the whole world's initials.

Never the same again, I understand how consciousness is a wide forever river pressing closer to empathetic ocean.

I once tried to protect myself from everything by forgetting her elegant lotus petals. Spikes in my eyes taught me invaluable lessons.

Some say empathy is a weakness.

I know now that it leads to our strongest miracle.

Who are we without compassion?

A blinded monster killing everything.

Empathy is a wounded healer.

Forgive yourself and remember your lotus petals so you can help others open up their own gardens.

We can only hope they all remember.
Aching heart
Pleading lips
Untouched hips
Begging to just be held
In those sweet arms
I envy those who get
To see those eyes
And my favorite scar
The butterflies
Came back to me one night
And have since been fluttering
Trying to be freed
They too wish for you back
To calm their impatience
I whisper each night
To assure that I never lose faith
Because it's all I have without you
Faith to see you
That our love will once again
With ecstacy and joy
To simply be reunited
In your arms
With those lips
Would surely cure all and any
Of my ailments.

— The End —