Healer
Poem — An Invocation to the Master #289
Published on March 7, 2022
Healer
Poem — An Invocation to the Master #289
Ah Healer, striving to cure me of the earthly stain,
How noble Thy aim, how divinely benign!
A passage there is at the cusp of birth,
For life’s privilege a demand is made by earth,
A ransom hefty of sin and pain
To be borne by us on mind and bone.
Stamped with the mark of servitude
We enter this somber slaving field
To catch a whiff of Thee in the moments,
But this stain chains us to the abyss,
Short is our flight with broken wings
Afforded by a meagre cord of aspiration,
Baffled we fall and look to Thy azure,
Our dust-smeared faces in despair
Carved only by the trail of our tears,
Each drop marking passage of years.
This I am as Thou doth surely know
And all that the surface doesn’t show,
A little by myself I shall cleanse,
Rest I leave to Thy all-knowing hands.