Thursday, March 8, 2012

The Hands that Heal All Wounds

Dear Mary,

You helped me find peace. At a point in my life when I was lost in the kinds of maelstroms we get sucked into as humans, a dear friend handed me one of your poems. With "my work here is loving the world," I felt my feet touch solid ground. With every line I read, it was as if another piece of my life's path was being laid out before me by poetry's hands, the hands that heal all wounds. I found through this poem my calling as an environmentalist and environmental science major. If I have a philosophy, I found it in your words. Now, whenever the currents of unrest threaten to sweep me up again, I remind myself to keep my mind on what matters, which is my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished. You gave me peace, you showed me wisdom, and you gave my heart a song to sing. Thank you.

Suzanne Hart

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