They have tread the centuries of Earth,
these healers; caring not home nor hearth.
Never waning, their cryptic bearings
religions cannot claim their callings.

The tools they carried fit like gloved hands
and yielded only their commands.
Medicine and mystery joined;
black magic, the vocal critics coined.

But to those who tasted the healing
love and adoration the feeling.
And while science now unearths these ways
black and white will never answer grays.

Takes the healing men to mend those ills
with their secret healings without pills.
For some but a simple word or touch
to free one from one’s own mental crutch.

For healing the flesh without the soul
leaves a scar– a deep and ugly hole.