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Wolf's Poetry

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

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