I watched my Grandmother
on her deathbed. I
sat in that Hospital room
with my mother’s eyes red
and puffy. she’d been crying
because she was meant to cry
her soul was on fire
with all the things
left unsaid
between mother and daughter

And I watched
my Grandmother’s face

I wasn’t on drugs
at the time. Though,
there was a system of things
going on
in my mind
I was unriddling a personal
cosmic delineation
that had opened itself
to me. to bear witness to

because I asked
to see
and to know the answer

Jumping back
X years before. Out
that smalltown
four storey redbrick
tumbledown, Out
over prairie wheat
canola fields thirty kilometers
to a neighbouring village
where I marooned myself
or was exiled
after failed relationship
it doesn’t matter
the point is
I sat
in complacent stillness
and had a vision

for the next six to eight
odd years I tried
to decipher its meaning

But there
beside my mother I
watched the old woman
relax her wrinkles
into a single form
as though
her body had already
resigned itself to the Earth
She melted into clay
or seemed to
her vessel tired of living
and want for sleep

There will be no ironies here,
I thought,
a living thing
was being unmade
and Time
wore the machinery of flesh
to soil

I didn’t cry

in my vision
the vision
a spirit appeared as I
legs crossed, back straight
human speck of animated dust
passenger groping at the universe
a surface blemish bump
riding the planet’s curvature
momentary self-important meat

sat in that hundred year old house
sat destroyed
sat in perfect trust
expecting no answer
yet an answer came
dressed as a man
in a pale gray suit
sat beside me
crossed one leg over the other
hands folded on his lap
He stared at the distance ahead
not at me
He spoke
“You know that this will kill you.”
my first thought
“if that is the price for knowledge…”
the conversation ended
the pale man disappeared. I
alone sat
feeling the physical space around me
feeling the couch cushion beneath me
feeling the warm glow of candle flame
against midnight shadow
feeling love and contemplating
this satanic event

the Devil would never tell a lie

On the drive home
from the Hospital I
offered my mother
a sympathy to placate her weariness
something about existence and
remembering loved ones
to keep them alive
in truth
I think it odd
to weep and mourn
an old soul seeking well deserved

She doesn’t have to bother, anymore,
with the messy material realm
of human ugliness. of
ego based importance
beauty/ money value systems
and all our ridiculous fuckery
She was free

maybe her soul, and all our souls
are immortal. maybe
it’s a blessing
our eyes can not perceive
light and colour in every spectrum
see our spirits float
out our bodies
at the moment of death
solidifying finality

is this why we
the living
haunt our world with
dead ghosts?
is it true that energy
can not be destroyed

that out vessels are animated
by more than a conscious desire to
fill our lungs with air, our mouth’s
and stomach’s with food

everything is as real as we want it to be

my Grandmother left that room
by some nonphysical means, and
returned to the vegetable Earth
as a sapling to live three hundred years
sheltering life
beneath her majestic canopy
a welcome respite for
nesting birds

why not this
instead of the insect kingdom
reclaiming her dust?

© Emerys Watchel, 2016 All rights reserved.


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