cleansing the pores of chaos spent,

divining the energies of the sacred living.

It was time to go, but before I went,

sat comfortable in the lodge,

waiting out a spring squall.

She soon turned violent in her rage,

menacing cloud furious swept,

it was getting dark, it was time to leave.

Walking the road on the valley floor,

she saw me there and gave me some more,

and here I thought she had given enough.

A mile of open land lay, between me and another day,

I crouched from the driven spray,

of ice pelting relentlessly.

Holding my face to stay the pain,

I looked over to a forgotten barn,

burst in brilliance a menacing tree,

as if she'd pick it up and hurl it at me.

In that shear instant, before the roar died,

a flash of agony struck me, and all was gone.

Time, thunder, wind and thorn of sleet gone,

the searing white left me alone in the dark.

Where was I, who was I, it did not matter now,

this must be death, to reckon me now.

As I thought in the void, awaiting my fate,

slowly the wind came, and soon I could see,

crouched as a fetus in the womb of may lay,

I slowly stood up to the winds frosty gale.

and knew in a flash I'd been moved a full dash,

for the barn was now behind and off to my left.

I am puzzled now, every time I look back,

at that evening time spent in a flash.

What was discussed with me in the instant of time,

may take me the rest of my life to explain,

not to others but to me, what could it mean?

I am grateful to be alive.

(A personal poetic account of one real/surreal life experience)