THE GIANT PEN ANTHOLOGY 204
Let the broken break free-
For healing wind is come to be.
Break break your doubting Thomas-
This healing, a must.
To mend your heart and pen-
To rebirth your muse to pen.
On the feathers of faith
I hope to crush the bait
Of true lies and danger
Moving full with the moon’s ranger
Not minding that I’ll be in grounds
But flaunting, healed of all crumbs
Sitting over the cliff on the edge
Peace to my soul is what I pledge
Medicine for my aching broken heart
What else could heal more than art?
I wanna fly to where I’ll be smiling
So I’ll just hop onto the healing wing
©THE UNFELT PEN; MAINA ANN®
Healing wing from above,
Descend on me like dove.
Soothe the bruise in me
And bring me back my peace.
I take your cure a treasure
And I give it no measure.
I fly beyond eagle boundary,
As though we share unmatchable glory.
Through the healing wing,
I enjoys every seasons of sing.
The virtue of this faithful faith,
Has been so beautiful to my fate
I sought the Lord answers,
For my wiry soul a burden matter.
I kneel to sweat out in beads
And knead every distrustful deed,
To know all the Lord willed,
But He sent me the north east wind.
Peacefully, it blows like forever
In perfect atmosphere it hovers
To mar the long borne maladies
Away with illness, it do carries
With arms stretched out, we’ll gladly bow
And let this healing wind now blow.
Here conforms no more
Less joy, then none more
Living is knotty
May one map me the healing wing
To come cure me my thorny ding
I took some steps away from home.
I found myself on the edge of the cliff,
Waiting for the solace my heart invited.
I cool my soul with the wind of peace.
I forgot the moment that sent me away from home.
Oh wounded soul
getting far from foe
Searching for pleasantries
Away from adversaries
With so much worries
Light flow of wind change d whole stories
Ferocious waves from the blue sea,
Solemnly appealing to divine plea;
To rain down healing breeze,
For the arms wrapped in suffering fritz,
To ride in the wings of wind;
Like a thousand stream in the rushing ping.
©Israel Eze (Equity)®
Thought I had the problems all,
But in reality, there was none.
Throwing my fears into the wind,
With it; my happiness is pinned.
Sorrows be damned,
For recuperated I am
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