This came to me from a friend Cece Briggs, who I was honored and privileged to have as a teacher when I finished my Bachelors in Spirituality at Antioch University. I share it with her permission:
Death Like No Other
This is a death like no other
red-barbed, lurking—invisible.
And this is a death like any other
disfiguring, liminal, pregnant somehow.
Children are afraid.
Admit that you are afraid.
Parking lots at the grocery stores
littered with masked phantoms.
I saw a woman clutching a bottle of wine to her breast
as her face trembled and twitched
in the check out isle.
Reality of the front lines
concealed from many—
disinformation filtered
through a fun house mirror
What happens when a cloud like this descends
and proceeds to shut down a world?
Earth-bound death
it is a descent—
into the mysteries of the Self
Leviathan of re-evaluation lodged on the precipice
of some unforeseen awakening.
Lead us into the dark
with our wounded shopping carts
our surgical gloves
our hand sanitizer.
Cerebus will detect us either way—
will split the landscape of Vaseline
and yellowing strip mall
with a snap of his jaw.
Lead us like the ones before us
into the realm of the night sea journey—
into the nadir
into the longing chasm of the abyss.
And let the candle held by Osiris
guide us en masse
through the waters of our great undoing—
through the initiations of light bearing.
Great trauma in any kind of dying—
always feels real this stripping down
this crucifixion
this flayed skin hanging on a peg—
this return to prima materia.
And the return
when what has been salvaged remains—
let it be re-membered
let it be known.
Let it strive to split the fabric that blankets the earth
Let it drive a spear through the heart of Cyclopean progress
Let it be wide enough
Let it be sharp enough
that we might hear the cries of the wild once again.
Guide us to the place where we may hear whale song
where we can smooth the rough hands of our ancestors once again.
Slow us down enough to mimic the movements of the ancient ones—
thick dinosaur legs rooted
heavy and sure.
This is a death like no other
red-barbed, lurking—invisible.
And this is a death like any other
disfiguring, liminal, pregnant somehow.
~ Cece W. Briggs, PhD