Scalpel!

Death During Surgery

One morning

One knife

Two hands

Of ten thousand

Prior surgeries 

I prayed

Prayed to die

Prayed for a minimum

Of five minutes

Lifeless, for

Frantic code attempts 

Attempting resurrection 

Five minutes truly alive

Finally

Five minutes

Free of this body

Afloat on God’s love

I yearn for an encounter

Divine

Face to face

With Christ, Murshid, Guru

Angels

Emissaries of Allah

A chance to ask:

Why is it not my time?

What is my purpose?

If I must return,

Be the compass 

Of my heart, 

Roadmap of my years

Remaining

Ishq Allah

Mabud Allah

Author's Note

I am fascinated by, and once did an exhaustive reading of literature documenting, temporary death experiences. Those experiencing temporary death describe meeting divine beings who explain it is not yet their time, explain why they must return to this life, explain the nature of their mission not yet fulfilled. I underwent surgery earlier this week, and while friends and neighbors prayed for successful surgery, I actually prayed to die, at least for a bit of time. I have attempted to explain in this poem.

Reviews

[Rosie C]

This is a very reflective piece.

Death is very sinister, even if it is by old age or natural causes.

I’ve never had surgery, so I can’t really relate to being a patient because I’m usually part of the health care team which is what I do for my job.

But I do sense a bit of stubbornness throughout the stanzas. Not a bad thing though.

I admire your character and your ability to move out of the comfort zone.

I’d say this is slightly different to your usual writings. x

[Thomas W Case]

Feels like a soul caught between leaving and staying—raw, searching, and reaching past the body for something truer.
There’s a quiet, aching faith in it, like someone still asking the questions even when it hurts to breathe.

[Desert Knave]

Absolutely wonderful writing / musing. As a bipolar contemplating death has been pretty much a lifetime habit, so it speaks to me deeply. ~Jim