My Healing Place by Andrea Horowitz

My healing place
is on a boat
In the middle of
The mighty ocean.

The wind is strong
As we move
Over the surface
Of the breaking waters,
Waves.

White waves,
Breaking,
The smell of the salt water,
A clear blue sky.

Dolphins
Dancing ‘round,
and ‘round
Through…
The water’s surface,
Serenading us
with their sweet melody,
in conversation.

Whales diving down,
Surging up,
Swimming ‘round.

Sprays
Of cool mist,
The school of whales,
Circling ‘round
Diving down.

Tail up!
Beauty Abounds…
As the oceans waters
Spread
Across
The width
Of the whale’s tail.

Visit www.andreahorowitz.com to see more of Andrea’s work.

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Madeline, Rising by Nathan Simmons

From the ashes of your bruised and broken spirit
Your light begins to pierce the darkness
Splitting the black hole in many pieces
So that the spirit that is you shines as it did before
Perhaps more so than before
Like the sun, the stars, the moon
A hundred flittering butterflies hither and thither
Bursting forth into the light
From darkness to light, from death to life
More full, brighter than ever before, healed and
Brimming over with the energy of a thousand suns
Spreading out over all of us, itself healing as it goes
Filling the darkness with light, laughter, happiness, and love
All speckled with your glitter of gladness
Rising like a wave of light bathing us with glee
You and me and us and them
Brightened by your rising
By your resurrection
By your blithe spirit
By the smile you once had lost and now encouraged
And found again and given back to make us all
Partners of your rising

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I Remember the Farm by Sam I. Gellens

Its fields and stream and woods as havens from a toxic family and the physical and verbal abuse of my father
The acute awareness of the passage of seasons–long hot days of summer, the crispness of autumn, a child’s excitement getting snowed in, which meant no school the following day, and the brightness of spring and a time of planting…from the early stages of life through a substantial portion of adolescence
My room with its own fireplace, the place where I felt safe and toy soldiers were my friends and the gateway to my love of the study of history
A time of life without illness in a place of dreaming and imagining during a mostly solitary childhood
The rare pleasure of working together with my father designing and building a small coop for my little flock of colorful bantam chickens, the leader of which was a rooster I named FDR
Raising and showing Polled Hereford cattle and actually winning a junior showmanship award in 1962 which included a letter of commendation from the NJ Secretary of Agriculture and a brass commemorative bowl!
135 acres nestled in a corner of NJ steeped in colonial history and the Revolutionary War- “Washington Crossing the Delaware”, battles at Trenton and Princeton
The 38,000 broiler birds my father raised annually and how labor-intensive doing so was
A setting in which I was a very troubled kid with few if any friends beyond my toy soldiers and animals, a fair-to-middling student, always labeled a “gifted underachiever”

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To My Heart – Where It Has Led Me by Mickey Stagg

Dedicated to my sons

What a journey it has been!
It has brought me over hill and dale,
to sparkling rivers, streams, brooks,
with my trusty dog underfoot.
It has brought me to various colors of the meadows,
to the green of majestic trees, the blue of the sky,
and the whiteness of the clouds.

It has led me to heartbreak, first, young love
with smiles unfulfilled, kisses unmet.
It has brought me to marriage, true love and sharing,
which I first did not understand.
But life has a way of teaching.

It has led me to a small hand placed in mine
with all the confidence in the world
that I would protect and guide this little being
as father, teacher or friend.

It has brought me to dark, cold, and lonely roads
where there is no light,
only faith can show the way.

It brought me to a place of gratitude,
for I have learned, that when I helped you,
I also greatly helped me.

It has brought me to a sense of family,
caring, loving, compassionate, yet sometimes not understanding,
family with all our differences, strong wills, independence,
we have remained as one, together.

I have no regrets or remorse about where my heart has led me!
It has shown me the joys, the beauty, and the wonderfulness of life,
the mountains of triumph and the valleys of defeat,
the warmth of love, and the pain of loss.

With these words, I promise you, I will continue to follow my heart.

Love,
Dad

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What Matters Now is: by Sam I. Gellens

Good weather
My dog’s company
An appreciation of even the so-called smallest of blessings: a hug, a smile, a simple expression of caring and support
Being able to give as well as receive
Making new friends and reaching out
The pleasure which comes from reading all manner of books and learning new words, phrases, and expressions
Maintaining strongly-held principles, values, beliefs while simultaneously remaining intellectually and emotionally open
Not fearing the future in terms of health and illness, but emphasizing the day which is at hand when the sun rises

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On Support and Gratitude by Sam I. Gellens

Gifts? Gifts? No, nothing concrete, but I am grateful for the lovely dog I have, a Welsh Corgi named Cash. Cash and I are joined at the hip and she does not like my being removed from her presence. I talk to her sometimes about what I’m feeling and I’m sure she both understands and represents a caring soul from another time who has passed on and decided to inhabit Cash’s bodily form. Could it be my mother’s Aunt Sophie, who took care of her when my mother was orphaned at seven, but ended her own life in such desolate circumstances? I feel badly when I miss an opportunity to brush Cash’s wonderfully soft and thick coat twice a day. Ditto for playtime. But I know she understands. She listens and is patient and is so sweet-natured. She is possessed of a precious soul and I’m so glad she’s mine. Could her coming to me more than a year ago have been basheret (“fated”)? Indeed, she is a gift.

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My Healing Powers by Tatiana Flowers

My healing powers would be infinite. They would work quickly and efficiently, and most importantly, painlessly. I know there isn’t just one part of my body that’s affected but what I’d heal first is my hair.

It’s pretty materialistic, or rather vain for me to care more about my bald spots than my actual illness, but it’s what I see first. My hair has always been one of my prettiest assets, so for more than half of it to have fallen out as a result of my illness, it’s quite shocking. My healing powers would have it go back to the way it exactly was, not longer, not shorter. They would look something like a cloudy air pocket that I would hold. I’d place it right around my head, and voila! It would be all back!

But I can’t help but realize I’d have to help the inside of my body too. I’d stop my immune system from overworking, and I’d rid my body of all my chronic aches and pains.

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No U-Turn by Tatiana Flowers

I think about it this way, because if you think about it, things will never go back to the way they were before all of this happened. I mean, the day after I graduated, my grandmother-an important part of my life-was diagnosed with one of the most aggressive cancers there is known to man. Here I was, thinking I’d be able to live the coming months in my own glory, looking for jobs in other parts of the country, or even the rest of the world, enjoying my success after graduating from a top tier university. But that was not the case, and actually, it never will be, because we have no control over what happens. That’s where “NO U-TURN” comes into play.

As a matter of fact, they say bad news comes in three’s. Just two months later, I was diagnosed with Lupus-an autoimmune disease that can become life altering if left undetected or out of control…and expensive nonetheless. Just at 22, I’m dealing with all of these things. But the good thing about “NO U-TURN” is that you have to keep pushing on, and I’d like to think “what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”

So now I bet you’re wondering, “Well, what’s the third thing?” Well, today, actually, my mom is in the doctor’s office having a retest for a mammography she had just last week. A few minutes ago, she sent me a text saying how she needs a biopsy. Lord only knows what this could mean.

I try to be positive because that’s all you can do. But we all know cancer is hereditary, and it sure is silly!

But if this is in fact the third bad piece of news, I can look forward to no more bad news. And hopefully there is “NO U-TURN” because I’d hate to see this cycle start all over again.

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Broken Heart by Dianne Ricard

Walking along this unknown path
Destruction all around
Voices hurling words so cruel,
crushing every hopeful sound.

Stumbling down the littered road
Strewn with pain and despair
Passing those I though I knew
They turned away like I wasn’t there.

Fog so thick, closing in
Don’t know where I’m going
Scrambled directions to where I’ve been
No friend in sight – emptiness keeps growing.

All alone…no warmth…so cold
Waiting for a human touch
Do I need to beg for a little time?
Is that too bold? Is that too much?

When I come back this way again
Will you still turn your eyes away?
Are you afraid to see my pain and
wish I’d go away?

Can you see it? Does it show?
…my bleeding broken heart?
Desperate to feel the sun’s healing glow
Searching for the way to make a new start.

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“The Wound is the Place Where the Light Enters You” (Rumi) by Sam I. Gellens

     I bear neither physical wounds nor scars from cancer to this point…but, I can’t predict what the future will bring. Will the lung cancer return in six months’ time? Will my doctors be able to get the prostate cancer under control? Has Rumi’s lustrous mystical light indeed entered me? If so, how? How will I know? Right now, it does not feel as if that light has either entered me or provided a shining beacon to lead me to a place of peace and mindfulness and insight and wisdom and acceptance. I feel consumed by worry, uncertainty, aging and fear of being alone too much of the time.
     I go to work each day not only because I feel needed there, do a very good job at what I do and am legitimized by my efforts. I go to work because I am not alone there, there are colleagues about and students, young, healthy students to advise who, unlike me, have their whole lives before them. They make me feel momentarily young again and that I can make a difference in their world, and I marvel at their youthful vigor and energy. I feel pursued by cancer, consumed by its presence, the possibility that it will ravage me further and possibly put an end to me.
     Rumi is speaking of a divine light which will suffuse our being and make us rise above the mundane cares of this world, even illness and how it wears us down. I wonder if he knew cancer. Did he know people who had it? If one follows the Sufi mystical path of Rumi, is there indeed transcendence, perhaps even triumph over illness and all of the other afflictions of human life, and is it then that the light enters you? When does one know? To live with cancer and not know, well that is a form of torture one must bear…

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