Oh—wait.
One last, and most essential,
remedy remains to be prescribed.
A hug—
written in the ink of care,
signed by silence,
sealed by the soul.
There is medicine in an embrace,
a lesson textbooks reduce
to love, to care, to hope—
yet it does more:
it melts the iron of hatred,
softens the rust of resentment,
rests exhausted bones,
and teaches sorrow
that even pain may pause.
Within the circle of arms,
burdens loosen their grip.
For a breath, for a heartbeat,
the world lets us go—
and peace finds its way
back to its abandoned home.
When we embrace,
walls collapse without a sound.
Armor remembers it was once skin.
Hearts step forward, barefoot,
brave enough
to be held.
Arms open like prayer,
and hearts settle
into a language deeper than words,
older than fear.
A hug says I love you
before the mouth learns how.
It whispers stay,
confesses help me,
assures I am here,
cries I missed you,
and promises I will return.
In that holding,
we are no longer separate—
we become sharing & shelter,
memory & promise,
family by feeling,
dreams still breathing.
Yes, I prescribe the hug—
daily, urgently, without restraint.
For it revives the weary body
and stitches the torn places of the soul.
So tell me—
will you follow this treatment of care,
and walk the path of healing
with love
and ready to share your hope?
