the healing muse

Volume 13, 2013

Three poems by Bruce Bennett


One of them she called “fat.”
One had “a horrid voice.”
“Mom, you can’t say that,”
I said. “We have no choice.

We take what we can get.”
She sat there like a Queen,
her mind and manner set.
I said, “You’re being mean.

You can’t be here alone.
What are you going to do?”
She sat, unmoved, like stone.
She stared at me. She knew.

Blessings for a Newborn

You’ve set off on a journey
with everything ahead
and nothing yet determined.
What is there to be said

except, Make it a good one,
and be all you can be
We’ll go a while with you
as loving company.


It’s almost March. We’ve made it through
another month of cold and snow.
I’m sick of Winter! How about you?

We know there’s nothing we can do,
so what good does it do to know
it’s almost March? We’ve made it through

this far, which means there’s just a few
short weeks—we hope, and pray!—to go.
I’m sick of Winter! How about you?

March 20th the season’s new.
Soon after that, the buds will show
Spring’s really here. We’ll make it through

till then. There will be robins too!
And longer hours of sunlight. Oh,
I’m sick of Winter! How about you?

Hang on. Hang in there. Take your cue
from snowdrops, which are up, although
it’s not yet March. We’ve made it through.
I say, let’s toast that. How about you?

Back to Volume 13, Table of Contents

Upcoming Events


Accepted annually September 1 through May 1.