Was I alive before?
Before darkness began growing under my skin.
Did I have a life that I was aware of, a life of light?
I can't answer that question.
I remember wonderful things and a beautiful family.
Trees green, lake blue, grandfather's hands and tools.
And I remember a morning, when I had no gods.
When I had no answers, and I asked nothing as loudly as I could.
And I remember screaming Grampa so loudly in my mind that I could really hear it.
I remember his disappearing, no word, no breath, no wind to shake leaves.
And I remember returning to a life of ash.
Picking up a phone to doctor's panic.
Are doctor's allowed to panic?
I don't think so.
I held Buddha in my heart as I waited.
I held peace so tightly to me as to know nothing else.
The faint prick of a needle = darkness.
Waking with half a face.
A face healing in the sunlight, later.
Soul seeking joy.
Awakening to a new life.
Finding Buddha and peace, and releasing need.
Suffering an abstract, and myself a concrete.
All things change, so have I.
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