“A Wild Healing”: a poem

A Wild Healing

Something is being born,

and with all birth comes blood

tinged with a certain pain. 

Precarious: pertaining to prayer.

We reach out, yearning

for solid ground in raging storms.

A hand etches lines in soft stone,

coaxing sounds out of their hiding places.

Letters and phrases line up like bashful choristers

standing in fresh robes.

Imagination is the great force

that calls forth flesh

from that place where holy things rest,

waiting for that clear moment when–

Let there be.

A wild healing is upon us now,

a time of breaking down

and breaking through, a tearing

of tight bonds that have held back,

the shackles of a soul long searching

for that word, that spark of desire

come to life at last.

Stuart Higginbotham

5/17/2024