Less Exciting Than Snake Oil

Wild Lettuce. Poppy. Hops.
A bit of magic undisclosed.
Love in a bottle. Health in a bottle.
Elixers. The grabbers of attention,
the ignorers of the simple truths
that have healed for generations.
Peace. Quiet. Rest. Reflection.
The old medicines without snake oil,
or someone to hawk them.
Broken hearts heal in silence.
Surrounded by fires and sleep,
in letting the new dawns be the new dawns
without fanfare. Less exciting perhaps
than snake oil, but with patience, effective,
if you live that long.

About this poem

About the snake oil society we live in, About the old ways of thoughtfulness, kindness, reflection, the gathering of facts and history. Trusting the true. About healing, body and heart and soul. A constant process. At least for me. Poetry is never about one thing,

The picture was taken at the Hancock Shaker Villiage near Pittsfield, Mass. My daughter gave me a membership this year (Thanks Izzy!) so there will likely be a lot more photographs from here before too long.

Tom