I laid there grateful for the dirt floor that effortlessly supported my weight. She wrapped each of my feet in a warm dry towel and then reached into a small brown bowl that looked like a hewn out coconut shell and retrieved a tiny pair of scissors. The golden bird shape on the handle reminded me that these were her embroidery scissors and though they were dainty and beautiful, they were also incredibly sharp. She slid one blade under my pants leg and with one swift motion, sliced the fabric from my ankle to my hip - revealing the bruises and scars that my legs had acquired this time. Tree branches and brush had not only snagged the fabric but also grabbed at my flesh, revealing small red dashes and dots that looked like morse code screaming SOS from the surface of my skin.
I was glad to feel the cool air of the room grazing my skin. I could not see what she was doing but I felt the warm poultice that she placed on each bruise and scratch and I knew that the healing process was as intense and effective in its work as my adversary was in her process of the elimination of me. She repeated the process on my right leg but hesitated when she saw that there was a gash just above my right knee. I had heard the arrows whizzing past my ears and was able to avoid them but this one came unexpectedly and though it seemed to merely graze my leg, it actually tore a chunk of flesh from me.
I remember when it happened. I felt the heat of the pierce and when I looked down, I saw that it had not lodged in my leg and so I assumed that it had only nicked me. It wasn't until later that I realized that the wound was so deep. The fabric of my pants and the thick weave of my socks had absorbed the blood that gushed and clotted, so I did not stop to notice or tend to the wound. I heard her weight shift as she reached back into the coconut shell for a scrap of fabric that looked like a large teabag. At some point, she must have brought a basin of water and a towel into the room because I heard the trickle of water into a shallow container as she squeezed the water out of the towel that she used to wash the wound. It frightened me that I felt nothing as she touched my raw muscle with the cloth. She washed around the wound and carefully cleaned the damaged tissue before affixing the small tea bag looking thing over the wound. She applied the same paste over the entire surface of the fabric and onto the skin around it. She held her hands over the area and whispered something I could not understand and as the paste dried instantly, there was a moment that felt like she had applied open fire to the wound but as quickly as it registered, it passed and a warming sensation radiated from what had once been an open flesh wound. I knew that it would not take long for this broken flesh to repair itself and return to its original state. She whizzed the small golden hummingbird beak across the rest of the fabric with a deft hand and was able to remove the rest of the fabric from my hips and waist. She quickly assessed for damage and finding none, covered my legs in a soft blanket while she prepared for the next steps.
Although my eyes were closed with the weight of fatigue, I determined that she was praying and things were brewing and healing. I felt her hands on my belly and I felt the inside parts joining themselves together and healing again. I felt things repairing themselves. I felt my heart pushing against my chest cavity as if it might explode right out of my body. My heart began to race as the blood rushed to heal the injured parts. I never noticed that what I thought was sweat collecting on my back was actually blood. I had scratched out a whole chunk of skin when I fell from the tree branch that held me but for a moment. I saw the ground rushing up towards me and I was able to brace for the impact but not before the branch tore through my clothes and lacerated my skin. I never felt the cold air rushing past the skin that flapped open because I was focused on making it to a safe place. It's funny how the body will compensate for things by distracting you with other things. The blood collected in the shirt and clotted almost instantly, saving me from bleeding out. The strap on my bag held my jacket closed, I guess, while I was making my way to safety.
With her hands on my abdomen, she whispered words that I could not comprehend and then laid her hand on my sweaty forehead again. She gently stroked my hair and let her hand rest on my shoulder where the hair tucked neatly behind my neck. She cradled my neck in her hand for a moment and prayed again and I felt my heartbeat slow to a gentler, less frenetic pace. I felt the cool air of the room blow across my collarbone as she began to unbutton my shirt and expose my skin. I am sure that she could see inside of my torso and chest right through to my heart. Her hands were cool and steady as they passed over my chest and abdomen searching for internal injuries. She had the ability to find places that were damaged and begin healing them immediately. She had always been able to find the internal bruises in my body and healed them with just a touch of her hand.
Lying on the floor with a blanket over my bare and battered legs, I heard the sound of water bubbling and boiling and splashing against the sides of the hot copper kettle. Effortlessly, she rose from her crouched position next to me on the floor and moved into the kitchen to pour the excited water over the loose leaves in the brown cup that resembles a bowl with its wide bottom and generous diameter. I heard the clink of the plate as it rested on top of the cup while the leaves steeped in the hot water. I can already smell the aroma of the tea wafting into the room where I remain motionless on the floor. I felt a blast of what seemed like ice water rushing through my veins and I realized that it was just the chill that accompanied the healing fever. Small beads of sweat gathered again on my forehead and I felt the change in temperature as my warm skin was suddenly cooled by the moisture that attracted the cool air in the room. The sweat began to run down my face and I felt it gathering along my spine as my shirt absorbed the moisture and clung to my back along with the blood that had been clotting all along. I felt the throb of healing's heartbeat in my leg where the patch was securely attached to my skin. I wondered what else she would find as she continued to work on my aching body. I remembered the smell of the woods and just as quickly as the memory tried to stake a claim in my mind, I felt it racing away again and in its place, there were children's songs and nursery rhymes. This is the drift in and out of consciousness...I know it well...
She returns and kneels at my side and I hear her exhale gently and once again, I feel one hand on my abdomen and one on my breastbone. Before she proceeds with the ritual, she examines my abdomen and my arms to check for more severe damage. She must have returned with another bowl of water and another cloth for my face. I feel the cool water and the soft texture of the towel on my face and though I am drifting in and out of consciousness, I manage to press my face into a small smile of gratitude as she wipes the sweat and grime from my face. I am grateful.
to be continued...
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