St. John’s Wort

Hypericum perforatum

the Earth cries and the Sun bleeds, for you.

all the light you did not know was yours

sometimes it is easy to forget that it has been there, and will continue to be.

perpetual grey skies and disillusioned pharmacy lines skin pulsing under fluorescent lights.

your hands do not feel like your own, a dense mist envelops your mind. has it always been this way?

peel your gaze from your screen, that light is not what you need.

let yourself be guided by the color of lemons, amber, egg yolks and gold. star suns of the Earth.

fireworks of solar rays catalyzing your blood, dissipating fogs, revealing a bluebird Sky.

throw your arms wide, and turn your face to the Sun.

DS 2026

De Herstellers” Will Worthington

advicefromtheherblady.com

botanical identification

flowers: open, flat top, cyme inflorescence with 5 radial yellow petals and long stamens.

other: opposite patterned leaves and branches, when the leaves are held to the light you will see small dots (oil glands) - plant can grow up to 3 feet tall - full sun

their offerings

forms - tincture, topical, tea, flower essence
restoring and reviving
parts used:flowers and aerials
energetics: warming, drying …
✧ nervous system ally - assisting with mild depression, anxiety, nerve damage and seasonal affective disorder.
✧ speeds up metabolism, supporting the liver and digestive organs.
✧ solar medicine - bringing light during darkest times- typically harvested on summer solstice
✧ infused oil used topically for nerve damage/pain, wounds, bruises, shingles
**Do not take this herb in tincture or tea form in conjunction with pharmaceutical drugs**

flower essence indications:

natalie squishing the flower tops to show one of the active consituents, hypericin that is the color red. →

“From A Floral Fantasy in an Old English Garden” Walter Crane

ST JOHN’S WORT

Named for a man who carried his own head
on a platter, for a day when the sun bears
its light over the land so slowly, so measuredly,
that the night crouches back and waits. A token
of love, of patience, of the will to life the mind
outside oneself, and let it rest. Let it heal. Alone,
I remembered this little herb, the yellow spikes
of the flower, frill of stamen, as something akin
to happiness - its bright stars, its tiny play
at hope, its way of lifting you through the grass -
and I brought it to you, a light to illumine
the dark caves of your eyes. At the door
of the ward, being searched, the nurse
took from me my gathering of flowers.
I found you on the bed, staring, still in shock.
Bringing no gift, I took your head
in my empty hands like a world and held it.

(2020)

Seán Hewitt

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