Healer — A Poem on Emotional Labor

I collect others' karmic dust
cure &&& heal the unconscious
like a vacuum, I suction up
trials &&& trauma that disrupt
daily lives leaving them in disrepair
disturbances that dare to keep
them on the edge of their toes
like volcanoes verging to erupt.
Then wring my hands til blood
runs circling the sink accusing
everything but the boundaries
I don't put up, to protect the
sacred sanctity of my own sanity,
a counterintuitive cycle that needs
to complete, so that it leads to the
death of this dance that defeats.
Nothing compared to the joy it depletes.