This experience, which lasted about ten minutes in total, is probably migraine related. I render it as a poem because I wrote the first line and my ancestors took it as an invite and piled on. Like I said. Altered state of consciousness.
words for our blessed dead are spoken as
into a state adjacent to ecstasy, if ecstasy
be construed as a state pinned into anxiety
more anchor of nervous tissue surrounding
words
words stuck around when no-one else did
and now they are in my head – roaring in
both of them, felt like they came in through my ears
whim-whams and stiffening
knowing they are riding me
and for a while the two of them are
roaring about and I can’t hear myself think
but I can hear myself ask who are you
which of my blessed dead are you
and I’m really surprised that I can smell
my grandma from the last time she roast chicken
for me, was still living independently
for a tenth of a second and then for a second she’s hanging there
I’m waiting waiting waiting waiting so long in that second
until she identifies herself for certain and this
is all messing me up because I’m an atheist and a materialist
and this part of my brain is still working all the way through
and then she narrowcasts
O MY DEAR CHILD HOW I LOVE YOU
and radiant warmth explodes through my chest
and fills my entire body while I relax into a state of bliss
and then there’s this psychic record scratch
I swear by my saints and blessed dead this is what I experienced
and there’s this total blast of Grandma being mildly apologetic
and she says, “No that’s actually how God feels about you,”
and my atheist frame says “Nice try Grandma!”
and my materialist frame says, “Check yourself in now and save some money,”
and I laughed aloud.
I’m still crying of course, as my recollection of her is awake in my brain
sending out a hearth of warmth and a beacon of light and
an inescapable feeling of being loved, and then something
horrible happened
the cleansing tears turned bitter
and I felt used
angry that there was something in me
crying for the wrong reason
and I cried and cried and asked what the hell
give me some calm after your pep talk for Chrissakes
and she said
don’t you know
I’ve been watching
and you have called my parents land thieves
and I have been angry at you for a long time
but you have been going down a path and I am drawn down it too
I must now sit with what my family did
what we stole
unlike the living who have their cares
I am often alone now with regrets
and since I have no body
here
have some stormy weeping on my behalf
Materialist mind:
serves me fucking right for making the mistake
of thinking of Margery Kempe this past week
I suffer the tears for a while and it’s not nearly as unpleasant
as the “YOU are LOVED” exploding heart rainbow was
so materialist mind is GOOD JOB brain we’ll keep you
and then there’s another little hiccup and it’s Grandad
I can feel him like a cloak enfolding me from behind
which is how I’ve felt him before
deep breath
there’s a little shifting
he doesn’t speak
is he embarrassed, angry, hasn’t figured out how to proceed further
and then, gruff as shit, “Calm down and work.”
nothing else, they’re gone, I’m sticky with tears
