Tacit Clarity
W. Rebecca Wood
My soul has flown into the deep spaces apart from my clay abode.
Set free from the daily limits and bindings defining my existence.
What remains here, stuck in time, awaiting the inevitable decay,
is not the essence of my being, my reality, but instead a golem,
inanimate, save for the heart beat and breaths, keeping it alive.
I am separate, cut off, incommunicado, apart from the rest of the world.
My thoughts, clear to me, are confused, garbled and untranslatable to those
who sit by my side, holding my hand and whispering to me, words of comfort,
and queries of what do I recall, do I know where I am, who they are?
All unanswerable, because I have moved on, to another place, another life, another eternity.
They think my essence gone – and they are correct.
For what they see is not me, but rather, the simulacrum of daughter, teen, wife, mother, friend.
So many things to so many others – but what of me?
Melle, Maybelle, Mimi, all my names, left in the wake of my existence now.
Labels without definition – for I am separate and apart, a new creation.
I float through the abyss of the universe, touching the stars, hearing their song,
waiting to join with those I love and remember in my own way.
Dancing through the eternal, hearing the beat and rhythm of life.
Asking questions oft posed, but not answered in the here and now.
Recognizing the ultimate truths that all of us know and feel.
It will come soon now, and I will be free.
My effigy will burn, the flesh seared from the spirit,
which already having begun its journey, will rocket to the edges of the universe.
A supernova consuming the mundane reality of what was,
in exchange for the expectations of what will be.
I mourn for those who remain – theirs is the harder path,
bound to the stolid, unmoving certitude that what is seen, is.
For in my isolation, lost in my own reality, I see the intangible,
the unchartered, the obscure that remains forever at the fingertips,
The promise of possibilities yet to come.
