This Art, This Healing, These Hands

Since I was a little girl I have felt a vibration in my hands -

stronger when I am close to trees,

undeniable when the moon-rain kisses my eyes

with her sweet wet blessing.

When I let my mind wander away while music plays

I find this same vibration in my body,

breathing for attention,

unnameable,

no less than the sacred primal pulse in my veins.

I used to say these hands were not my own,

guided by a consciousness I could not claim.

I was unsure, afraid.

I let my hands release their calling

into paper, image, words and clay,

into the touch placed upon another

in playful flirting tenderness,

from time to time.

It was not enough.

I ached for something more,

my soul would not sleep until I found.

I bit and tattered hand and nail in digging, digging deep.

In practical desire, I left my art behind.

I immersed into the waters of conventional nursing,

washing dirt from hand in cleanse retreat,

confined, but seeking company

with others in spirit-body journey,

to help, honor, and witness,

to comfort, to understand.

And with this I have expanded,

deep compassion within,

finding Presence to be the truest of medicine,

Space to be the most precious of gifts,

and lacking in all textbook algorithms for fix and cure.

And still I ached

for Earth's sweet truths to show me my place.

In lonely fear I sunk into surrender.

I weeped at the doorstep of my truth

and found my art again,

this time with healing clarity.

I am an Artist.

I claim this.

Because I merely survive without it,

hungry, suffering, lost,

incomplete in my own unfolding.

It is my nectar, elixir.

It is my solace, my healing, my sanctuary,

my Love.

I am a Healer.

I accept this.

Because I am empty without this spirit-to-soul connect,

electric, charged hands, just vessel,

tense in universal flow stopped up,

stagnant.

It is my river, my flow.

It is my calm, my medicine, my offering,

my Art.

Like the trees, the moon, my pulse,

this paint, my expression,

my Source, this song of Life

these words with all their lacking...

These hands

that listen, touch,

soothe and soak

to show you connection exists

in healing light divine,

all your own

These hands

then move to prayer

and open to creative flow

as best I can, each moment

to release the quiet

and accept this Truth,

my own, my healing

my art, my offering

this magnificent

simple life

guided by

these amazing hands.