Herbaciana

There comes a time

When you re-write the narrative

Re-tell the story

Now that you’ve made it far 

When you look, when you look from the outside 

Make the wrongs right 

Not for anybody 

But for your soul divine 

It’s true what they say. Our senses are capable of awakening us to our consciousness when we are truly present. For me, it was a recent moment of destiny among plenty more. I entered a Rossmann store after my workout to pick up shower gel. I saw the word Herbaciana on one of the shelves. My mind began slowly stirring. The name sounds familiar. I’ve known this somehow. I couldn’t recollect. I returned home with it, prepared dinner, watched some streaming while I ate, crocheted a bit, talked with a loved one and went to shower. Just like most restful unwinding evenings. 

There in the shower, I whiffed this product once more as I applied it gently. Upon starting to rinse with a thousand drops of water washing me through, it startled me and the memory came alive of the time when I had known Herbaciana. Cleansed amidst the candle lights by the shower, I stepped out to dry myself. Just as the mundane activities slowly continued, simultaneously the memory played like a movie. Bringing back to my mind from whence exactly this herb made its encounter carefully in my life. As I watched this reel play before my eyes, I felt lighter and lighter. Like a weight had been lifted. 

Years ago, autumn turned to winter, and yet the cough that began at the end of summer just worsened. The coughing was all day and all night every single day for 8 months. Rarely had I put on makeup before it. But with the continuous exhaustion from coughing I looked pale as ever. It was still many months before I was diagnosed with Tuberculosis. Then I’d known a soul who talked to me in my circumstance. He tried to help me in ways he could. He asked me to wear my warm pajamas long. A long-sleeved shirt tucked in. A hoodie to cover me up along with blankets. With windows open for cold winter air to circulate freely. From his father this he’d known. I followed, feebly through the coughing. It gave some relief. 

To the doctor I couldn’t much go. To pay the doctors fees and medicine, the circumstance made it difficult. He sought me help by asking a friend to speak with a Doctor he’d always known from home. Spoke to her about my illness and she wrote me something to help with my throat. A time when my voice wouldn’t occur. For months prolonged, I tried to speak but whisper was all that I could utter. Among the things to buy it was this very Herbaciana, a lozenge of sorts. To chew and suckle on to relieve the throat. 

Months went by and alas when they diagnosed, I was terrified to see what the translation showed. How could it be in the 21st century? Vaccinated I was, yet, it crept into my lungs. As they moved me into the vehicle with lights swirling above and the siren on, I wrote to him seeking comfort while on my way to the place of rest to be well again. It was near his home. His words of assurance comforted me at that moment. He faded as I rested. 

I didn’t receive as I desired from him and bitterness filled my heart. I forgot the man he was to me and the monster I made of him. His friends called him a narcissist. A title so scorn. He wasn’t a monster. Just circumstances and time twisted in their wicked ways. He’d say to me  - four lifetimes has he lived in one. Truth abode in those words. 

It’s never late to right a wrong. 

Never late to re-write the song. 

Now in my bliss, as presence lifts me. 

I smile having known this soul. 

On his journey, I wish him truth and may peace reign long.