31 January, 2014

Poetically Twilight

This is a poetic version of an earlier post, Amen and Resurrection. I had been challenged to write a poem that included meditation, sleep, or deep thought. This time of year that speaks directly to personal experience - to my weeks on life support that I described a couple of days ago. Your choice: prose or poem.


I lived in twilight –
humbled by the constant drip,
magic irresistible,
magic so medicinal,
suspending me somewhere
between what others call awareness
and what they know as sleep.

I lived in twilight -
knowing not if night or day.
Only occasionally did the shaman
curtail that incessant drip,
allowing a world I couldn't touch
to caress my senses. Softly.
And in those moments rare,
I sometimes heard the voices. Faintly.
I sometimes saw the outlines. Dimly.
But mostly I felt machines of life,
doing for me what I once did for myself.

I lived in twilight -
knowing neither pain nor sadness.

I lived in twilight -
knowing neither joy nor laughter.

I lived in twilight -
but I was not.