[Thespiritexpress] A poem read at Mastery

[Riantee Rand]

In this World but not of this World.
 
Oh, to lie on a bed of feathers and furs 
in the grip of a gentle sickness
that embraces and covers you
with a mantle of vagueness,
a kind forgetfulness of who you were
as you recline in the loft above the living space 
where a crackling fire gathers friends and relatives 
around board games and friendly chats.
 
Oh, to rest there 
invisible but part of it all,
unaccounted for, 
exempted from duties and gracious exchanges, 
but loved and loving all the same
for you are no threat to anyone.
 
Oh, to rest in this place of non-identity,
accepted by all who love you more than ever
because of that sickness that removes you 
but is not troublesome,
knowing that your warm body 
is healing in the softest of beds.
 
Nothing to worry about,
you’ll come down tomorrow or next day 
to join in the fun,
but until then you need peace and rest,
the warmth from the fireplace rising to you
as you lounge,
rocked by the sweet chatter below,
taking part in it but not part of it,
just a friend lying in a bed of compassion,
a mother, a sister, a daughter, a goddess 
who has come to know 
that this sickness is not happening to her,
but happening FOR her
who has forgiven All.
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