Mayan Flower Healing Ceremony
Humans being human
are usually like The Breakfast Club:
we see each other’s humanity.
At the flower ceremony
we take turns speaking:
how hard the last two years have been,
how lost we’ve felt from losing the people we love.
We grieve alone, jointly.
Maya puts us on a cloud
and invokes our ancestors,
and, surprisingly,
they show up for us.
All the people from my bedtime prayer
gather in a way they never did in life
and, smiling,
(while tears streak my surprised face)
they say, over and over,
you know how to do it
and it could be anything.
All evening I’m buoyed by new confidence,
done with second-guessing,
sure about what to do,
whatever comes up.
Oh my ancestors,
for all the years I’ve known
how to say your names,
I never thought you’d say mine again.
Tonight I’m going to look for you
on that cloud once more,
now I know how to do it.
