Going Down The Big Slide (Final Version) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

all the stories about near death experiences
envision the departure from here on a cloudless day
perfect weather
spun down a tunnel of honied light by near sighted angels
to the Beulah land in a short span perhaps
but I
kind of think of it all
as Going Down The Big Slide for once and all
because I remember so distinctly
the angst I felt as a little girl
very little to a heart breaking pitch
going down the baby slide
and looking over to the other side of the playground
where the big and very tall kids were lined up as if to see a
Saturday movie to go
shooting
down a slide that wouldn't quit, jostling each other
and kicking up enormous clouds of red dust at journey's end
as they peeled off
I will never be that tall I thought, and that is still true
afraid I will fall halfway off the ladder or one third through
and that will be that
then squshed flat by an unheeding Big Kid
the giant slide I called it so many rungs on the ladder to get up there
dizzying to say the least
it seemed to just vertically drop
from the skyline above the treeline with no mercies
straight down from aeons
and I was terrified of it just the sight of it
being prone to vertigo
or thoughts of it
I don't think I ever went down it
so now that is what death seems to me
now that I'm almost 73
the big slide down on an appointed day and down and down and down if you're lucky, (back down to hobbity earth)
or by centrifugal force flung off, preempted by Dorothy's cyclone
or the Scarecrow's zero gravity bouncing off like
a whiffle ball lifted off by the Flying Monkeys, Heavens!
it makes me want to cry the same tears reserved for the homesick
even throughout life
in odd moments missing the chicken pies
there was that big slide inconsolable feeling popping up
with the ones you loved receding from the vicinity
to pick you up in the afternoon
like a great familiar bruise on the inside
of terror, for even small things endured
the stomach like a pit braided with unshed tears
first day of school gianormous jitters
how much more so for The End
except for the fact perhaps everything glitters and
I view God, as a friend
and I feel all my dear kin
will be there again at the bottom of the slide
to catch me, fondly gather me in, a small harvest
which makes it a little less scary
and perhaps, even, a little, filled with rosebuds,
merriment near at hand like the sendoff party in
grade school for Christmas vacations or graduation
Mays with their vast gardenias
Pink pearled singing
to beat the band.
mary angela douglas 22 september 2023