I was a child reading books,
often fantasy of elves and unicorns;
magic wands, spells and potions;
clerics who wielded powerful spells to heal.
That is what I desired–a world where magic existed.
I dreamt of a world where I could
heal people with the wave of a wand.
The touch of my hand would heal a broken heart
as easily as it brushes tears away.
I could envision myself
as a powerful magical healer.
I devoured books and fed my mind
with dreams of great accomplishments,
causing unicorns to dance with me and
worlds to be created within my mind,
waiting for me to release them into reality.
Instead, I went to school day in and day out
and watched television and daydreamed.
The spellbooks were changed to texts and
my wand became a pencil for solving algebraic equations.
Eventually, I forgot my daydreams and grew up,
yet sometimes I felt within the very
core of my bones, that I was destined for greatness.
At those times, I remembered the desire to place my
hands on another to allow a magical power
to flow into them and cure their wounds,
physical and emotional and spiritual.
I read books, metaphysical and spiritual,
and learned that I can truly heal another at
the cell level using only the energy I
focus and charge with the intention
of my loving, healing mind and heart.
Perfecting this skill requires
meditation and focus and devotion.
My life left little time for this discipline.
Instead I changed diapers and did laundry
and washed the dishes. Even though
I felt destined for greatness, the
mundane tasks of life kept me busy,
and left me only with renewed daydreams
that I still hang on to today.
I am linking this poem to week #25 of One Shot Wednesday. Be sure to visit for some of the greatest poets on the web.