Re-Union...with Jaguar

The jaguar gripped my hand, in his wet and gnashing mouth. 

Wounds are mysterious things;

How they can speak out so long

and loud

after new skin and new stories

tuck them

out of sight…

Sometimes it’s hard to put a

name to the old voice,

Mostly because there are so

many options:

Shame, grief, despair, anger, rage,

Fear…

But it is a growl that is recognizable –

in the ear of memory,

or the pit of the stomach.

And, in the last breath of an addict,

the jingle of prison cell keys,

the door slamming on bruised and beaten hearts,

the moment that innocence is stolen.

And, in all the Self-betrayals.

In every act of prey turned predator.

Unlike other cats, jaguars kill

with a bite to the head.

When he takes you by the hand,

it’s an invitation to go

to where you have always

had an invitation to go –

Where Light’s canine teeth

pierce

the Darkness.

It is here where wounds become

Sacred Wounds.

It is here where artists make vows to beauty,

musicians become composers,

poets transform poems into prayers,

prayers become a way of walking,

and the body begins to understand Love.

It is here where poison becomes Medicine.

Follow this path,

this Path,

though it twists and turns sharply downward,

though it leads to the lair

of everything you have been avoiding…

for a long, long time.

Follow this Path,

though you realize:

You’ve already been here.

This is the cave of your Dreams.

Yes, yes!

All those nightmares were

perfectly inscribed love notes

from the lily-scented Underworld,

always beckoning you to claim the

potential of this place,

Calling on you to honor

your blood –

The red thread embroidering

the edges of the tapestry

in which past, present, and future

are continuously being

woven together

in a circle.

Back to the jaguar:

I have found him to be a trusty guide.

And, odd as it may seem,

Thanked him for the bite.

Jamie K. Reaser

in, From "Re-Union: Coming Home to Each Other"