She clears her mind of the thousand thoughts
That tumble like dandelion wishes
Scattered to the wind
And as the canvas clears she is told where
The definitive guide tells her when to stop
Imperceptible to some the slightest change
But it’s there sensing
Heat where none should occur
Her lips move in silent prayer asking for the healing
To change things to a better state
Her hands tingling fingertips afire unable
Unwilling to remove herself unless she has done her job
The one she was compelled, called to
do
But she must do in secret
As who would believe in a healer?
Would you?
Ailsa
© AilsaCawleyPoetry 2016
©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016
ailsacawley 