Poetry of Healing

Writings from Healing Literature

“Health is worth more than learning”. (Thomas Jefferson)

Reminder of Intention: Again the premise of my writings and web site is simply to pose questions on healing for the individual to answer for themselves for their own benefit. What I and others answer or think is not of concern here, but what is important is focusing upon your own journey and personal healing. The prose and poetry are written only to convey many stories with potentially helpful perspectives about healing, and are NOT INTENDED to advance a particular viewpoint! These poems have no philosophical, religious, political, economic, social agenda, or some new code of righteousness to promote. God knows we have had enough of that approach.  These stories are thus presented only to help us listen and better understand each other. In this light, these poetic meditations can then serve as helpful lessons that point us in the intended direction of healing ourselves, and our world. I encourage the reader to try and remain focused on the intentional simplicity of this purpose, where profound observations may begin to reveal themselves from within you.

An excerpt from my book is provided below, offering a sampling of many shared stories in relation to human hurt and healing. In addition, I have offered a condensed version on a variety of the book’s healing subjects. (See as listed on the left side menu of this section). I hope these writings and meditative poems serve as an appetizer for a more comprehensive treatment of individual and collective healing when the book is published. Until then, I hope you find some relevant benefit from these vignette’s of  others experiences and healing lessons.R.F. Moore

“In healing, we again join in communion,
Celebrating each other in heavenly union.
No thought of wrong,
We are basking in our birthright,
Born of original innocence,
And unconditional love and light.”

The background of the next poem initially emerged in an attempt to give voice to my personal experiences with injury and perceived injustices that were thrust upon me. How much of this recounting is subjective or objective is difficult if not impossible to determine, and is essentially immaterial in the end.

After first writing it, I later would listen to a women who had come to trust me over time, and at 90 plus years of age, this lifelong nurse told me a story about healing she said was important to share. She briefly described how as an adolescent she was raped, and as she returned in shock and terror to her home, beyond her Mother’s hug and stillness was the voice of rage from her Dad. Her father quickly and defensively retorted that she was the “Ugly Duckling” of their two daughters, and if her pretty sister did not find such trouble, he suggested she had some responsibility for leading someone on, or contributing in some way.

That was the last open reference to that event and unimaginably terrifying night, though certainly not the last tearful thought or hurt to be healed. Approximately 80 years later, here she was making her point by responding to our survey to assist educating student nurses for the future.

Her point in summary had to do primarily with listening and trust, advising that a nurse should first listen carefully, and authentically build trust and support for the healing process to take place. She then presented me a small homemade gift, and gave me and the Dean permission to anonymously use her story, if it would help others with healing. I held her as she gently leaned on my shoulder for one holy moment, and I quietly prayed a full healing had taken place. Looking back, I believe that she had likely freed herself a long time ago.

“Final Freedom”

Deep within, from the depths of depression,
Emotions erupt to bring forth fresh expression.
When we freely fall into a deep despair,
There surfaces a freedom, our choice to care.

As a silent but certain form of captivity,
Coerces our compliance with passivity.
It leads us to wander, so weary and lost.
Caring internally, yet outwardly tossed.

Controlling so little, if anything at all,
Having been proud, once standing so tall.
Life’s walls crumble, chronically falling,
Ultimately we choose, care or withdrawing.

As fires are fanned with unthinkable hatred,
In consuming all sides, even the dead are berated.
Famished explanations, all failing to satisfy;
Only caring choices, freely given do gratify.

The freedom to speak and freely choose,
Our response to both beatings and bruise.
This final freedom, that sets us apart,
A response to pain, forgives from the heart.

Guaranteed protection, solid and secure,
Solemn and sacred, preserved and pure.
Dwelling within, it cannot to be taken,
With a will to give, were never forsaken.

This final freedom, an unalienable choice,
When under attack, a just cause to rejoice.
In acknowledging suffering, freedom is understood,
Self-healing continues, transforming bad into good.

Our final freedom, life’s final verse,
as pain and loss, we cannot reverse.
Invited to join in the hate and despair,
Hearts desire to love, their destiny to care.

I can see it now

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