Thursday, August 20, 2009

As She Slipped Away




She slipped away from me last night. One moment she was there on the table getting her stomach pumped and the next…nothing. I prayed last night. The strange thing was, I wasn’t even really sure whom I was praying to. Everyone…no one, it’s all the same really. I wouldn’t say that I am one who has lost their faith. I suppose one must have faith first to lose it. I had confirmation last night of something that has lingered in my mind for some time though.


I was praying to the nebulous someone or someones out there when I felt her spirit away. And rather then become saddened or more fearful, I felt a calm wash over me for a moment. With my eyes closed I felt the pain of a part of my soul being ripped from my heart and suddenly I knew what I should do. I stopped praying and I opened my heart and soul. I took the blinding light that I carry within me and I poured it into her still and quiet body mercilessly. I pushed the essence of my being into her as I have never pushed before, with purpose and determination.


I felt the doctors working on her, bustling around like so many busy ants. None of it seemed real though. It all seemed somehow to be so far from reality that it was like a haze, a fog settling in and only one thing remained clear. The girl that lay on the table before me was a drastic contrast to the activity around her. She lay there so absently, still as death itself. For that is what had settled over her briefly, this shroud of death which clung to her like a sticky film that one can’t wash off.


I stood at the end of the bed, next to her head, watching everything with a certain detached feeling. I marveled at the fact that none of the good doctors and nurses could see me. They perhaps could sense me if they were of the sort that could pick up on such things but I had no reason to think any of them were in fact a possible sensitive, privy to the sensations of astral bodies nearby. Frantically they continued their efforts and I smiled sadly at them, knowing they were doing their best and also knowing that it wasn’t working.


I placed my hand on her head, petting her hair the way she always liked. The movements of the doctors were becoming fewer and slower as time itself seemed to slow to a crawl. A nurse held a pen in her hand and had an eye on the clock, waiting to be told when to write down the time. I looked back down at the girl on the table and leaned forward, softly laying my lips upon her cool forehead and I breathed myself into her. With every breath I poured that which is me into her. She was the vessel and I became the liquid light that filled it. I felt myself reach out and pull everything I could from every other person in the room, a collective sigh escaping their lips. My eyes unfocused and still I filled her.


A hand touched my back and I knew it was He. He then reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips, doing the same as I. Together we let our power loose on her. Shadowy figures began stepping forward, family coming forth to lend a hand. And still I pressed my breath into her with a whisper, “It is not your time, little one. You must come back. I am sorry but you cannot yet leave. Hate me if you will but you must return. We need your light.” I felt her struggling, just out of reach. Not wanting to return.


“No! It hurts too much!! I want to go! Let me go!!!”, She says to me.


My heart feels another wrenching tear and I can no longer hold myself back. I feel that part of me take over, the part I hide the most, telling few about it. The Goddess steps forth from my inner core and I feel the large red wings spread out behind me. I lift my lips from her forehead and nothing but a piercing light can be seen where once my eyes were for they have gone blind in power, but I no longer need to see to accomplish what I must.

I place a hand upon her chest, over her heart and the other hand I stretch to the heavens. With a thought and the flip of a mental switch I am touching the Source of all and I become the conduit for its power. The sensation is overwhelming and a roar tears from my throat as I withstand the extreme discomfort. He comes to my side again, wrapping his arms around me and holding me up as my knees become weak. And still we do not stop.


A slow but steady sound begins to echo at last against the stark white walls and large glass door of the somewhat small room. This is shortly followed by a startled gasp. Beep…Beep…Beep. It is an odd sound. Beep…Beep…Beep. It is not a sound made by natural means, but rather by a manmade device, which suddenly has commanded the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes are turned toward it in rapt interest. Beep…Beep…Beep. I am slumped against Him now in exhaustion but I find the strength to lift my head and open my now dim eyes once more. Upon searching for the source of the gasp, my gaze falls upon the nurse with the pen. She is no longer staring at the clock. Her eyes dart between the girl on the table and the machine next to her that continues to give its repetitive series of beeps.


“Doctor…”, her eyes are wide and she simply stares, as whatever words she would have spoken trail off and become forgotten.


The girl on the table lies there in slumber now, her heart beating out a slow, soft, steady rhythm. My line of vision flicks over to the shadowy figures of those that had approached to lend a hand. With soft, relieved smiles and a sage-like nod from the both of them, they melt from my sight into the background. He and I each take turns caressing the sleeping girl’s cheek lovingly. Exchanging a meaningful glance with one another, we too step back from the table. We quietly fade from the room, hand in hand, so that we may once more find our physical bodies where they lay miles away, in a state of deep meditation.


My eyes flutter open and my thumb absentmindedly runs back and forth over the face of the cell phone in my hand. Shortly I will receive a call bearing news. They will tell me that she is in critical but stable condition. I lay there in the darkened room, alone with my thoughts.


I wonder to myself, will she hate me? Will she even remember? Or will she awake, as anyone else would, with no knowledge of what came to pass in that hospital room while she tried to slip away. An exhausted smile touches my lips and silent tears of relief trail from my eyes as I think to myself that could perhaps ask her tomorrow. I roll from my back to my side and curl up, still deep in thought. I had always suspected that there was real power beneath the surface of what meets the eyes of most when they look upon He or I. Pity that confirmation of such things must come in such frightening packages.

2 comments:

Dark Fire said...

Powerful, and not only because I know more than I should.

Crystalis DeCavalier said...

Thanks sweety. That means alot coming from you. And you don't know more then you should...you know exactly what you should. Remember that dear.