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