Spiritual possession
Through an opal window I saw a cloud,
changing colors from blue to orange to red,
like a burning fire.
I was swept off my feet,
floating on a bridge between this world and the next.
My body no longer in my possession,
I hear voices beyond my choices,
juggled on a hawser like a puppet on strings ~
my entire being a vessel laden with spirits.
The voices were raucous,
filled with a mixture of rancour and candour ~
evidence of my traipse between realms,
and drifting swaps between wakefulness and dreams.
An admixture of languages ~
glossolalic, angelic, and carnal,
ricocheted from my ears to my chest,
yet none I could understand;
I was a stranger found in a manger by a ranger.
Far below my feet
were faces in beige, white, and different shades of brown;
high above my head
were lineaments gleaming in stainless hues of white.
Then the angels breathed into my ears,
and their languages became clear;
they spoke in whispers,
and I strained to listen.
But when I spoke,
my words were carnal –
the language of those below –
understood by them, but no longer by me.
All I said
turned their fantasies to ecstasies.
They shouted, "Hallelujah,"
and my feet quivered;
I was left stranded
before I crash-landed
back into my body.
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