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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required This poem is featured in Dr. Ivan Edwards' upcoming anthology, Resonance of the Soul: Flowers and Harmonics, published by IEME LLC. The book will be available in e-book, softcover, and hardcover formats upon release. Available on YouTube. Healing - A tribute to those who battle mental health The journey to wholeness: Reflections on mending wounds, overcoming pain, and embracing the resilience of the human spirit. "I am learned, forged in Makerere’s halls of light, Crowned with knowledge, armed with might." Yet the doctor, calm as an evening tide, Meets my tempest with quiet eyes. The snake stirs, restless within my mind, Its coils are my fears, its venom unkind. It lashes, it strikes, a desperate display, Yet the doctor does not flinch nor sway. Unyielding he stands, like a mountain in repose, Perhaps fortified by Waragi, calm in its throes. Simanyi (I don’t know), but the doctor looks cold, Distant, like the Virunga Mountains of Rwanda, bold. At home, my husband paces, silent and torn, His patience worn thin, his love forlorn. "What has happened to you?" he says with a sigh, And I lash back with venom, though I don’t know why. The snake feeds on the anger, his doubt, And our marriage flickers, its flame burning out. My children stare, their eyes wide with fear, Their laughter fades, their joy unclear. "Mama, why don’t you smile?" they cry, But I can’t reach them, no matter how I try. Their hugs feel foreign, their voices dim, I retreat into shadows, the light growing slim. At school, among peers, I stand alone, A scholar of renown, yet cold as stone. Whispers trail me, cutting and sharp, "Her brilliance dims beneath her mental harp." The piper’s tune hides the chaos inside, But their judging eyes pierce through my guise. My parents call, their voices a tether, But their advice feels distant, fading like weather. "Focus, child," they urge, their tone so firm, "Your future is bright; your path must affirm." But their love feels like an echo, a haze, While the snake coils tighter, consuming my days. At the doctor's again, I leap akin to the Ugandan agama, Twisting, alive, defying the encroaching drama. But his steady gaze, his unshaken calm, Meets my storm without alarm. He hands me pills, as steady as the Nile, "Take these," he says, with neither scorn nor guile. Not even a flicker—this doctor is like an assassin, Slaying serpents with precision, no compassion. I resist at first; pride erects a wall, But the snake hisses louder, and I start to fall. The bitterness lingers as I swallow my fate, Hoping the pills can silence the weight. The serpent writhes, furious at being contained, Its venom subdued, its power constrained. At home, my husband watches, his tone softens slight, Yet trust feels fragile, like glass in twilight. My children’s laughter returns, though faint, But guilt stains my heart; I’m no saint. Their small hands reach, their warmth starts to glow, But the shadow of the serpent lingers below. At school, the whispers soften, nods replace sneers, Peers begin to see beyond the chaos of years. Makerere’s scholar, once lost in despair, Now rises with strength, her spirit repaired. The doctor’s steady care, a beacon in my haze, Guides me gently through life’s tangled maze. The serpent weakens, its voice retreats, The piper’s song fades, its melody incomplete. The doctor seems to grow roots in my head, I give him more space, where the snake once fed. A month later, I stand here anew, The snake lies dead, its shadow subdued. The piper has wandered, his tune now gone, And I walk forward, my healing begun. "You seem different," I tell the doctor, "Are you the same who began this chapter?" "Yes," he replies, with a smile so vast, It could tame Ngorongoro’s lions, steadfast. "I have not changed, but your sight has shifted, the fog in your heart has finally lifted." Ah, Makerere’s student finally sees, The tempest silenced, replaced by peace. No longer bound by the snake or its song, I rebuild the bonds that I’d broken so long. It is slow but steady, kind and sweet, I see it, I taste it, this life complete. A wife with hope, a mother with light, A scholar renewed, standing upright. The doctor’s work, a silent grace, Has returned me to a brighter place. A place I always yearned to inhabit, Where the heart sings and the feet dance in freedom’s orbit.
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