Below is the poem entitled The Healer Part I (from my life story) which was written by poet
Sepulvado Anderson. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Scarlett Sepulvado Anderson
Grandma took me to a Healer once. I was only 7 years old and in the third grade. She first
sat me down and explained that she was having my father drive us from our house in
Bossier City, La to our home town in Zwolle, La. to Ms Agnes' house. She had taken Daddy
to this same Healer when he was five or six. I had warts all over my hands that began when
I was five. They were very large and hurt so badly. Though, the most unbearable pain was
how the kids teased and avoided me. The embarassment was beyond description for such a
young age. Grandma chanted while using many different herbs. Daddy took me to the doctor
but their medicine didn't work either. "It's a curse", Grandma went on, "You're Daddy had it
on him too at the same age".
Even though back in those days warts were thought to be contagious, Grandma was rubbing
my hands ever so gently as she assured me that Ms. Agnes possessed the power to make
them go away. I looked over at Daddy and he didn't say a word but gave me a knowing nod
of the head. I thought to myself, Grandma done lost her ever-loving mind! But lest I wanna
get switched or knocked up side my head I play along.
We got in that baby blue truck of ours and drove to Zwolle, LA. An aura of curiosity
overwhelmed me as I walked up to Ms. Agnes' shotgun style tin shack of a house. It certainly
didn't look like any of the doctor's offices my Daddy had taken me to in the city. After the
greetings between her and Grandma and Daddy, Ms Agnes instructed me to sit down on the
couch and count ALL of my warts. Somehow I was aware that she didn't want to touch me
herself and never did. I figured, like all the rest, Ms Agnes probably thought my warts were
contagious. After counting all the warts on both my hands three times the same number, 111
was the total. Ms Agnes was mumbling to herself "Boo Coo" (meaning MANY) as she busily
scurried herself back and forth behind the sheets hanging over the doorways to two small
rooms. From what I spied as the sheet was moved to the side, one room was a tiny kitchen
and the other her only bedroom.
Back and forth Ms Agnes went several times as I smelled the odor of something cooking in
the air. I thought about what Grandma told me on the way there. She said that Ms. Agnes is
over 100 years old. She's almost blind and having her eyes removed for some medical
reason. Grandma told me that I'm to be Ms Agnes' last "patient" ever.
Cont'd in Part II
Copyright © by Scarlett Anderson