AT HEAVEN’S GATE
What do you really hope for
after death pulls the shade
on you? To remember?
How we value our consciousness,
Perhaps we re-emerge with the womb.
Would that be progress?
Who said anything about progress?
Was it AmWay?
Were we meant to always
What does meant mean, anyway?
I wouldn’t opt for hell, but not to
be disrespectful I don’t want to be
dandled on another father’s knee
forever, either. (What a mouthful, “forever.”)
Do I really want to be alone forever?
(Just not with some people, I guess.)
While I don’t want Groundhog Day
every lifetime, is it all downhill
after this? Back to an atom after
I won’t care any more. They say I’d better
“let go” or stay on as a ghost.
Dust to dust. Hey! I’m in here!
Like sleeping, they say. But no dreaming?
What do you want to dream about forever?
The past? The future? The eternal now?
Maybe we’ll lightly settle on a higher plain.
(Higher than what? Lower than what?)
A small voice inside says, “Hey.
I want outta here.” But not really.
If I really had my druthers
I would like to be welcomed back by
those many lives who have shared my
soul in ages past, to embrace and
melt into a reunion, at long last
home again, for now.
Nan Mykel 2015