Flashing Lights

Have you ever felt your arms
Go weightless?

Light, lighter than the air around you

Then your legs
The top heavy part first

Then your ankles, down to your feet

Your head lifts up

And finally, the small of your back
Bringing your waist up with it

Has that ever happened to you?

. . . . .

Here I'm asleep
And I'm happy to be asleep

But it's strange

I'm asleep and aware

And content
And not panicking

About the fact that I'm aware
My eyes are closed
And I can't open them

And I can hear, but I can't hear anything
But I know I can hear

It's just quiet

My tongue, and mouth
And jaw, and hands
And toes are gone

Not numb, just gone

I think I'm dead, but I'm not

Am I?

I'm not sure

I feel like I don't need to be sure

I'm too happy to be sure
Of anything

I now realize that certainty
Is what's been making me unhappy
All these years

. . . . .

There isn't just a light
There's nothing but light

Somehow I didn't think of it this way

And the light, it breaks
It becomes two lights, then three
Then again, then again
Until I'm unable to comprehend
The variety before me

And the lights flash, and flash
And I feel like my eyes should hurt
But I don't have eyes anymore
Or the capacity to hurt

I don't understand God any better
Or the notion of Heaven, Paradise
Eternal Peace

But I understand goodness
For the first time
I understand goodness and kindness
Completely

. . . . .

I never heard the lights make sound before
But now, as they break
And connect

I hear them

When they flash, it's like their singing
But when I listen
I hear that it's not singing
But living that I hear

And yet they sound so similar

It's the living I'm familiar with
At least, now I am
Maybe not so much
When I was actually alive

Now I can make sense of it

And I like to listen to it

I like to listen to the sounds
Of living

And I find that it sounds the best
When it's done boldly
And with love and noise and color

That's when the lights flash
The brightest