There is a community
of healers
who warm the lives of others
through true revelation,
standing with light exposed
through their work,
the artistry of their sharing
spread
through music, paintings,
gifts of stretching,
words on film or page,
loaves of bread,
hands on bodies
and even that macramé of crafts,
the poem.
Years I looked for their welcome
and plotted how to let their circle find me
so I could be anointed into belonging
with the deep oil of acceptance.
This morning in my sleep
a healer came
to press me to the floor
and soothe my aching back;
he rested on my warmth
and all the boundaries
of who heals and who is healed
were stilled
and I let him take what he needed
as my poor trapped back
began to tingle.