The Healer's Touch (a sonnet) Do words bring comfort to an anguished heart? -- Aye, as much as sugar heals a wound. Can laughter mend the broken by her art? Illusion, until silence makes her rounds. Behind the mask of gaiety there lies a visage shattered by apathy's sword-- Tongue muted by countless unheeded cries, Ears deafened by repeated loveless word. If Time can mend all wounds, I've yet to see his hands stretch forth to demonstrate such power. Yet we have arms more tangible than he-- I've heard the Healer has no hands but ours. If we're to stand with Him, can we stand by and look on sorrow with unchang??d eye?

~~Erin Metcalf~~ © 1999 About This Poem

I wrote this for a friend of mine who was deeply scarred by childhood sexual abuse. Pretty words do not heal... Presence does.