Healing Poems - Poems about Healing

I walked away not free from snags caused by those in authority, but to be free from cruelty to save my spirit against evilness  And injustice in power's grip Tied up by abusive six sprawling  division in command, footsteps no trace, only an echo weeping soul in the dusk! Harsh words dug deeper into my soul— sickening insults to my inner self— a burden carried within the shadowed kingdom. So...

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Words are just a wrapper— Truth lives in the ache, Not in the noise we speak, But in what starts to break. We often make remarks, Wearing their grief like borrowed skin, But fail to touch the fire, That burns beneath within. "I feel alone," we think we hear— "I'm fearful. I'm not okay." We answer, "I'm sorry," Then turn and walk away. But somewhere in the...

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A vicious rehearsal has forked out. It is a flame that bothers but borders on the essence of life—the survival of a community searching for answers after the quake and the flood. I gather these rhymes like firewood as I piece together the lines only legible...

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They asked for a piece of my mind— so I offered silence, wrapped in gold. No rage, no clamor, no thunderclap, just breath unbroken when the world turned cold. Peace of mind isn't a destination, but a pact with storms I’ve learned to outlast. Not the absence of chaos—but grace, in the moments I choose not to cast judgment, holding fast. It's the...

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It’s the darkness, flooding the silent room A still so bitter it flows, splashing fears Weary as the moments I would never presume Pierce the heart with feelings, frantic tears It’s the night, breathing in echoes of anxiety Murmuring shadows who still the soul Wiping out the silhouettes of notoriety Following the screams of a dread’s control It’s the dusk, ending twilight’s...

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In a realm where kindness has vanished, Where no light dares to appear, The echoes of darkness reign, Majestic and cruel in their sphere. Sharp tongue, slice like a knife in depth as you speak. A flashy eye glare soothes your skin as you walk past. Words are full of deception, discrimination, hatred of your color, identity as you-a settler in...

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Is There Light? Is there light in the darkness? Is there hope in the grief? Is there health in the sickness? Is there peace in the strife? Oh! The questions keep coming With their doubts and their fears. Can there be a way different A way that’s way out An escape from normality That can banish all doubt? Try reading the Bible About Jesus our Lord. Through his...

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The devil couldn’t reach me, so he sent diversions in the form I desired most. He wrapped lies in laughter, gave them cute faces, glittered them up like gold. And I forgot, sometimes a wound wears jewels, sometimes danger looks like everything you ever prayed for. So I fell for it. I wasn’t the sun in their day, nor the star in their...

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I wake— each dawn a slender promise shoulders gilded, by hesitant sun. The world, wide as longing real as the air I breathe— crests of mountains waiting horizons keeping their counsel. My heart, uncertain…. ventures like a melodic wind carried on— searching for a sign where wonder grows wild within. Between the strums of my old guitar and laughter in morning dew I surrender: each note of yesteryear kindles today’s quiet lesson A...

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She collects souls to be their shepherd, to keep them — and their short lives — safe. All moments, catalogued in the chaos and cosmos. She watches them thrive. Her curiosity appears as wit, sharp with double entendres, an intelligence cloaked in playful tongues. She heals wounds that leave invisible scars. She wraps her mind around others’ worries and offers another way — a kinder path, a...

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In Nishapur's dust and blazing heat, A physician walked the wealthy street— Young hands skilled in healing's art, Rich purse, restless, yearning heart That craved what gold could never meet. Wine and laughter filled his nights, Pleasure fed his appetites, Till one dawn brought strange surprise: An old man with ancient eyes And bundle clutched with all his might. "Master," spoke that voice so low, "Tell...

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I never buried certain names, They lingered like a scent in air. I whispered them through window panes And found them waiting everywhere. I never buried childhood roads— The ones I walked with bleeding knees. They live inside the softest odes And bloom like ghosts among the trees. I never buried what she said The night the silence broke our bed. Her voice still echoes...

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Touch me where I do not tremble. Make of me a scent without a name. Let sound become what breath once was before it learned to speak. Let the tongue forget its hunger. Listen to me with the skin of thought. I seek no salvation, only time that vibrates beneath the skin. ...

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I didn’t want to light the flame, But damn, you handed me the match. We played a bitter little game— Now neither one can scratch the scratch. I offered peace, I begged, I tried, You laughed and chose the sword instead. So now the happy parts have died— I burned the photos in my head. The goal was never you or me, It somehow...

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What the hell is going on? Do I know? Hell no, I don’t. I don’t care either. I lie. I do care. I care very much. I think perhaps I care too much. It hurts. But isn’t it impossible, Impossible to care too much? Is it? I know It is possible to care too little. Perhaps not care at all. I’ve felt that. I’ve been there. No one cared. No one. Not even me. But caring...

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