The Acupuncturist
His hands are the touch
of lightness and grounding.
They are the touch of warmth and healing.
His voice asks that I float,
letting all thoughts pass in and then out.
He asks that I put myself to the side,
becoming a vessel,
of flow and energy,
of stops and starts.
Learning how to let go
and accept is not easy.
I remind myself to take in a deep breath,
and release.
Poem by Tracy Artson
February 9, 2011