Out Like a Lamb

No Such Place

The pews here are sealed: clear
over solid wood. I pick at the varnish
to widen a crack, and enter the
space between the sermon and

         my tired child mind
         requests an exit,
         ritual as gospel
         acclamation

         I ask who am I?
         and who am I?
         until there is
                   no who
                   no am

this place where neither psalm
response nor long and solemn homily
can reach. I pick at the portal
to widen a crack, and enter the

space between the church and
my wild child mind

                   no I

freed, fleeing the scene,
away from praying Mass-es.

         A body trapped
         between components of
         a swiftly dying marriage
         makes the necessary motions.

There is no explanation
(describable or otherwise)
for my expert disappearing
over incense, blessing, Eucharist;

into a great Amen of galaxies
and wide, bright suns.


note ▼

April 17—There is no such place

This is based on my own experience. Between the ages of maybe 7 and 10, I was able to separate my consciousness from my body during the Sunday Catholic church services, typically during the 20-25 minute long homily/sermon. I don't really remember going anywhere, only that I was gone. I would leave by asking "who am I" over and over - and I would return by saying "but I like me. I like me." As an adult I'm fascinated by the memory of this ability - and I wish I could recapture how to do it!