
As I have reflected on "Wounds" and "Wounding" these past few days, I found myself looking for a poem about the way art can heal. Instead, I came across this 19th century poem by George Eliot (nee: Mary Ann Evans – 1819-1880) about friendship. The author of classics like MiddleMarch, Eliot had a sweet understanding of the power of friendship and, important for us, she had the gift for how to express it! Eliot’s writing must have been very healing for her. She lived in a time and place when some women needed to hide behind male pen names. Beyond her art, it must have been friends that brought her the healing she sought.
Friendship is the
comfort, the inexpressible comfort,
Of feeling safe
with a person,
Neither having to
weigh thoughts, nor measure words,
But pouring all
right out just as they are
Chaff and grain
together
Certain that a
faithful friendly hand
Will take and sift
them
Keep what is worth
keeping
And with a breath
of comfort, blow the rest away.
I hope this poem brings you comfort and healing today.
-Erie Chapman
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