Your Soul Still Sings It's Living Name - Poem by Patti Masterman
When they buried your kind old heart at the last,
I caught myself wanting to jump into that hole beside you-
You cared for me from the time I was born, like a mother.
One night I sent up a silent prayer, to tell you that
Wherever, whatever, you now were, I would always love you.
Afterwards, I felt the approach of two brilliant objects, one on each side
Coming up from behind ever so slowly,
Two large, blinding spheres of fire moving together
From the back to the front of my line of vision.
But these were not earthly lights; more like shrunken suns:
It must have been the other, inner eyes they speak of, that saw-
My body’s physical eyes would surely have shriveled.
I felt that death was very close at hand
And then I sensed, or felt, a hovering before me, just above,
A multitude of hidden, microscopic hummingbird wings
Beating at supersonic, unintelligible speeds;
A superfine, infinitely uniform oscillating wave,
Announcing an invisible presence there. Memories of childhood catechisms;
Jesus the Gentle Shepherd, rose up before me-
If this was he himself, accompanied by an angel,
Why was not Jesus’ light the more brilliant one,
If angels are lesser beings, in the scheme of things?
Still present there, somehow connected with the fearful lights,
Was that exact, determinate frequency, floating composition
Special unto itself, throughout the entire cosmos;
In the tapestry of creation, one vibration I would always recognize:
It was you again, no longer earthbound: escaped from your tidy plot of earth.
The perturbations of personality were entirely absent;
No remnant of the roles of earth you once wore
As daughter, mother, sister, wife; none of those left.
You were now revealed in your pure essence as so much more than that.
There was no human telegraphy of emotion;
Your entire consciousness simply affirmed it’s being.
You must have been exactly placed between the twin guardians
Who seemed to symbolically and literally light the way;
Escorting, conveying you to whatever purpose they were appointed.
Gradually the ripples of your field faded away to nothingness,
And gone too, those two ever beside you, the tremendous beacons.
I felt myself begin to grow cold with shock and disbelief;
But I was still alive; more importantly, you were not decaying alone
In the grave- no- years later, and you were shooting across the universe
At light speed, trailing stardust, your own supernova now;
No longer restrained by flesh, and gravity, and time.
You were exquisitely unclothed, wearing only spirit,
That soul: naked jewel fresh from the Godhead itself.
Suddenly I felt more awake and alive than I ever had before.
In the blink of an eye you had come back to me again, just once,
For reasons I do not understand.
I wasn’t sure if my presence there was noted,
Or met with any recognition, inside that pureness
But still intact was your living, individual stream,
Pouring forth like a waterfall of the most pristine, self-renewing substance,
Perfectly strong and undimmed, unmuted by any walls of insulating flesh.
That must be why they call the indestructible tap-root of our existence,
The Living Soul.
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