Curandera Healer

I am 19 in one of the old markets
In Mexico City and sick to my
Stomach with I know not what,
I have been well my whole visit
But for some reason I am sick.
I sit at a patio table by a tree
And ask the girl if they have
Something for stomach ache,
She brings back an old woman
Who looks at me and holds
My hand, touches my cheek,
Heart, and forehead and leaves.
I wonder if my Spanish was clear.
The old woman brings me a mug
Of liquid masa flour with vanilla
Bean and other things which I
Drink down as she watches me.
A quarter-hour later I order some
Chicken quesadillas chips, and
Salsa as I feel fine again.
I consider all I have seen and done
In Mexico City, Guerrero and Acapulco over the summer,
The beauty, squalor, history,
Ruins, but mostly the people
Who I have met and known
Both here and at home.
I am transformed by my travel,
Like walking out of the trees and
Seeing the woods for the first time.
My head is clear now to see what
Is real and not and to forgive my
Mind and awaken my heart.
I wonder if it is the new
Perspective or the
Concoction I just
Drank or am I
Just finally
Growing
Up?