It had been a year or more since my last acupuncture session. It gives me good energy and made a headache go away once, but nothing especially dramatic. In October, I ran into the healer at a potluck. I’ve known her for years as a casual friend but had never had an acupuncture session with her until last week – after my body told me to make an appointment. But this was not a typical session. I must have been ready. The time was right. This was my experience:
November 10, 2016,
two days after the sky fell,
Interrupted cries still lingered in my solar plexus
like mucus bogging down muffled screams
waiting to be flushed free.
Then the drunk guy threw a key at me
when I was only trying to help.
Who needs this?
But that cop wasn’t following me after all
as I pulled into the space
to visit the healer with magic hands
and the skill to find the stuck places.
She began with my old friend,
to settle my nerves.
The first needle only hurt for a moment
as the door opened and sparks flew.
The others didn’t hurt at all.
When qi started to flow,
I almost giggled
then followed her humming
with my own breath –
Inhale, sooooew. Exhale, Haaaaaah,
like the song of the ocean.
Cardamom opened the doors wider.
Right after I turned over onto my back
is when it happened.
My cold hands finally got warm.
Then, I started to cry. And laugh. And cry.
Mama. Mama? Mama!
Is it really you?
Hold me, Mama.
My fingers can’t reach you!
Daddy is hurting. He misses you so much.
You want me to tell him you’re okay?
Mama’s okay, Daddy.
Am I supposed to be
learning how to talk to other ghosts?
Or just my own?
Sandalwood brought me back.
Shaking, I drank from the cup of water
and called my father to give him the message
he already knew.
My mother died November 14, 2008. She collected angels. Dozens of them still decorate my father’s house. He hasn’t moved any of them. And he won’t move out of that house because he feels her presence there.