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.