When The Veil Flutters

When the veil between the past and present flutters

I see the source of my healing touch and intuitive reading

I see my fear of being in the water

Waves or no waves, flat as Ala Moana —no matter

Long after the veil is still, I remember

I am a healer who fears being in water.

 

I first remember the green water chilling my feet

It seeps through the wrap of rough twine that straps me to the seat

The cold numbness spreads quickly as I am lowered into the pond

There’s no winning here

Drowning is proof of my sins

Surviving is proof of the dark sponsor

I am a healer, a midwife who sought to ease the pain of women.

 

I am a healer across many lifetimes

Easing the pain of the body, spirit, and mind

Sometimes called Shaman, Crone, or just healer

Sometimes honored but most times

Feared by those without belief in what they cannot see

So, the chase repeats itself with different endings

Hiding in wells numb my feet, I escape pursuit but fail to live,

Next, the immense sea swallows me whole

Before I can reach the Golden Land.

 

This water thread is no different now

Body surfing at Ehukai, falling over that last wave

Watching it rear over me, crushing me

I roll in the washing machine churn, tumbling in the white water

Sand swirls around me like golden glitter, so pretty

I close my eyes and remember to tuck my chin.