The Healing Poems That Stood By Me
By Shalini Samuel
Healing poems wipe our sorrow, nurse our wounds, and show us a new way.
Some poems find us like old friends.
Not in libraries. Not in syllabi.
But in the quiet moments—when we are raw, unsure, and barely holding on.
I have always believed that poetry isn’t just an art form.
It’s a refuge.
A lighthouse during storms most people never see.
Some poems healed me when nothing else could.
Not therapy. Not distraction. Not even time.
Today, I want to share four of those healing poems with you.
Not because they are famous (though they are).
But because they became part of me—etched into the spaces where silence once lived.
1. Rumi’s “The Guest House” — When I Needed to Make Peace With Pain
“This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival…”
Everyone likes Rumi’s poems, and I am no exception. They are simple and deep, making us think in a million ways.
There was a season in my life when my emotions became too heavy to carry.
Grief. Anger. Confusion. And that haunting sense of being “too sensitive.”
People told me to be strong.
To let go of bitter experiences.
To “move on.”
Ah, I know everyone feels that way sometimes. At that phase of life, Rumi’s “The Guest House” opened my eyes.
Rumi didn’t ask me to move on.
He asked me to open the door.
“The Guest House” made me sit with my shadows instead of running from them.
It told me sorrow isn’t an enemy but a teacher.
And every feeling, no matter how unwelcome, arrives with a purpose.
That poem didn’t fix me.
But it permitted me to feel—without guilt.
And in that permission, healing began.
Moreover, I am a person who often changes things around in my room and in my life. I throw away the old, repurpose, or replace it. But the Guest House remains the same. I carry the same baggage and haven’t made changes for long. So, I started dusting and renewing it periodically. It changed my life! How I received and treated guests too changed! I meant the guests Rumi mentioned.
2. Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise” — When I Needed to Reclaim My Voice
“You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes…”
I read “Still I Rise” during a time when I was quietly breaking inside.
There’s a particular kind of pain in being misunderstood.
In having your softness mistaken for weakness.
In having your silence interpreted as an absence.
But Maya’s voice—her unapologetic rhythm, her fire—stirred something I thought I had lost.
This wasn’t just poetry. It was reclamation.
Of self. Of strength. Of the right to rise again and again.
She reminded me that my voice is not a burden.
It’s my blessing.
And my story—especially the painful parts—deserves to be told, not buried.
3. Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese” — When I Forgot I Belonged
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.”
There’s a quiet ache in always trying to be “good enough.”
To be perfect. To please. To fit into a version of life that feels far from your own.
I came across “Wild Geese” during one of those silent inner storms.
The kind no one notices because, from the outside, you look fine.
But Mary Oliver whispered something I didn’t know I needed to hear:
“You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”
So, I wasn’t afraid to pursue what I love the most in life: reading, writing, helping people, nature, puzzles, working until I feel sleepy and a lot more. It gave me the freedom to pursue my happiness irrespective of what society thinks.
Her words didn’t demand change.
They offered to belong.
Not just in the world but within myself.I found my place in her poem—not in approval or performance,
but in the natural rhythm of simply being alive.
Rudyard Kipling’s “If—” — When I Needed to Keep My Head High
“If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you…”
There are moments when life doesn’t shout.
It tests you quietly.
Through misjudgment, betrayal, unfair expectations, and silence that cuts deeper than words.
In one such moment, I met Kipling’s “If—.”
His lines weren’t gentle like Rumi’s.
They were forged like iron—unapologetically structured, clear-eyed, and firm.
This wasn’t poetry as comfort.
It was poetry as the backbone.
“If you can wait and not be tired by waiting…”
“If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you…”
“If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue…”
These verses reminded me of what it means to be centered in chaos,
to remain rooted even when the world misreads your silence,
to stand—not loudly, but with quiet strength.
This poem didn’t rescue me in a tearful moment.
It steadied me in a storm.
It taught me that grace and strength can live in the same breath.
And that true power is often invisible—felt more than shown.
Some Poems Don’t Just Inspire. They Rescue.
These four poems met me at different seasons of my life.
One taught me to welcome pain.
Another taught me to own my strength.
One reminded me that I already belong.
And the last gave me the courage to stand tall irrespective of the situation.
As a poet, I now write not just to create beauty—but to build bridges.
To give others what these poems gave me.
Because somewhere out there, someone may be scrolling in silence,
waiting for a verse to break the noise
and say—
“You’re not alone.”
Do you have a poem that saved you?
Tell me in the comments—or better, send it to someone who needs it now.
Healing through poetry is real.
You never know who is waiting for your word. Let us heal through poetry!
