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HEALER, STEALER by Yvonne Brewer

I wrote this poem, or this poem wrote itself rather, as I was writing out the details of a long and disturbing nightmare I had one night in July 2014…

I had just visited the grave of one of my favourite Irish poets, Patrick Kavanagh in Iniskeen, Co. Monaghan, Ireland. The nightmare involved a famous Healer that I was supporting. In the dream I organized a huge event for him in a city, but on the night of the event, he ignored me and wanted all the fame and audience attention. Of course I did not see this and was convinced that a brown paper parcel in his office was a gift for me, so I took it. When I discovered it was in fact the only draft of his new book that he had just written, I was unable to return it to him due to floods, and dead people walking everywhere around me!

The dream gave me many messages and lessons. It came at a time when I was looking up to a lot of healers and creative people and in a way gave away my own power and did not value my own gifts and talents. I realized from the dream and the poem that I had been neglecting my own abilities and power as a Mother, Healer and Writer, while supporting many others to climb their ladders and fulfill their potential.

After writing this poem it sparked a new phase for me on a new path of self healing, self love and self recognition. It also made me aware of how important it is for me to connect with people who -similar to myself- are coming from a heart centered approach to their work.

Healer, Stealer
by Yvonne Brewer

I took your shiny brown paper parcels,
And then through the city I took flight.
I tried to bring them back though, later that strange night,
But the streets turned into rivers,
And my feet were cold and bare,
And the brown fish swam with black spots,
And the scar-faced man did not care.

Now your shiny brown paper parcels,
With their healing stories and games,
About love and light and heart's bright flame
Are scattered little brown pieces, floating in streets of shame.

I cried into the river for losing your precious words.
I cried as you only saw me as a broken piece of driftwood.
I cried even more tears for losing my heart and soul,
To a man made from torn brown paper
That I thought was shiny gold.

Fear grew inside me when I heard voices at the market square.
I'm sure your brown paper parcels had the answers inside, somewhere,
But I became like a street statue and stopped in a frozen stare,
As the brown fish swam with black spots,
And the scar-faced man did not care.
~


Yvonne Brewer is a Mother to two boys, is a Reiki Master and also enjoys writing meditations and poetry as a method of healing and personal development. For over 20 years Yvonne has written poems, stories, meditations and letters as a hobby and uses creativity as an important tool for relaxation and stress release. This is the first time she has had a poem published.  Her first e-book was published in 2013 "Breathe and Bloom. Soul Mother Meditations". She lives in Cork, Ireland and can be contacted via her website here, on Facebook here, or you may e-mail her brewer_y@yahoo.ie



~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~

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