An Ayahuasca Minute

Prose Poem by Cheryl Atim Alexander

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No sooner than I have dared to drink
from the supplest and uppermost vines of
the Soul of the Universe
and somewhere in a forgotten crevice of my right ear
I perceive the beckoning call of the Jaguar ~

A low to medium-pitched apprising growl
seems to emanate from somewhere near, yet also quite far behind me.
How is this?
I wonder if the presence may be too quick and close for my mental comfort?
Yet, I see no way to measure space or time in the reality of this dimension—
and no possibility of turning back, either ~

So, I turn my attention forward:
toward the soul family I can readily see in front of me,
congregated in the most auspicious of sacred circles,
conducted by a shape-shifting red and orange fire form—
an ancient alchemist of sorts—situated in the center of everything.

Dancing, flickering flames render the anticipatory faces of
my human brothers and sisters iridescent.
And, just as I am realizing that this occasion may be
the first and last time I will ever feel this alive,
a trio of swaying, multiarmed Hindu goddesses appear ~
Serenely serpentine they trip the light fantastic
and with the essence of infinity
they radiate previously unknown colors of the most divine.

In the midst of my mortal transfixion
the great cat cachinnates, again.
This time her sound is unmistakable,
yet still, perceived, apparently—only by me ~

I cannot unsee.

The rest of the tribe appears to be unaware
that this bushland queen is right here, right there;
that she is essentially, everywhere.
More than a thousand red and black flowers
decorate her mottled brown and yellow body,
and her oceanic eyes— which have witnessed a mountain of incarnations—
reflect the outstretched arms,
grasping fingers and legs akimbo
of my African ancestors ~

I cannot unsee.

I watch the Jaguar wait
in the jungle for my return,
wielding a wealthy might
and a merciful grace.
There is my nature;
there is my power;
there is my face.

I cannot unsee.

She is free,
she is me
and I want to merge with her,
knowing in these unmatched moments that
she will not allow me to return to my sleep;
that the healer I have been resisting is bound to awaken
and that I will never regret, or forget
my gaze into the deep.

I cannot unsee.

So, let the healer come forth within me;
the ancestors, the tribe and all a sundry!
I have already seen that
the world is consummately better this way.
Gratitude to the grandmother Ayahuasca for showing me what

I cannot unsee.

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Cheryl Atim Alexander is an Afro Euro woman primarily of Nigerian, Greek and British descent. Currently an MFA student, she is enjoying leaning into a newer identity as a writer and has been published in Decolonial Passage (upcoming in Wilderness House Lit Review and Soul-Lit).