Are you completely dead
or is part of you still alive
– like your inflatable brain
or your softening lungs? Or your
spleen so splendid in its isolation?
Or is it your digestive system digesting
what is truth and what is faecal?
Or your knees so achy and feeble
surely no means to spring upwards?
Yes upwards. You didn’t see that coming?
But now that you’re on the move,
is it a gentle rush or like having
Judy Jetson’s turbo pack on your back?
Do you clock Farmers’ lingerie display
or the odd ridged edge of the bus terminal
behind the Rita Angus Retirement Village
where you stood on the street
a minute ago? And the air looks
so clear up there. Do the mists
gather so that your head pops
like a champagne cork above the clouds?
And then – as the voice leading the meditation
says – is it slow blue, present blue,
eternal blue? But none of that really
matters. This is after all Your Ascension.