My mate’s head, cheek and teeth sear with lightning pain.
His voice grows pale, movements like taffy, a hunted look in his eyes.
This man who lifts his loved ones off the ground in enthusiastic hugs
now fragile as a dragonfly wing.
Immediately my mind kicks in—must help, must find a cure.
Ask Siri, query Alexa, Google it, Bing it, WebMD it—
that place where the common cold becomes a life-threatening illness.
Acupuncture, ayurveda, reike…
A diet—there must be a diet for this!
Isn’t there a diet to cure everything?
Even to get to heaven?
I stop, breathless, call on the Genuine Healer.
Truth enters in a rush of love:
This condition is my loved one’s perfect teaching.
It is not mine to cure.
I’m to recognize the sacredness of my own journey
and keep my attention here.
I can support him,
but most of all,
let him have his invaluable experience.
What if I had never trudged through the jungle of my own pain,
cried out like a howler monkey in the night
that Jurassic scream that reminds me to desire only You?
To wake in the morning strong and healthy is a gift.
To live inside the arc of a rainbow
untouched by all but its essence—