a Turning Point.
So, where to start,
because there is
such a point.
When mind is on recall track
(talking about mine)
this little bit would not be here
opening space for memory recall.
I just had the necessary recall
to rehash a long ago story
pulled from dusty old bins.
The day I died, well close to died
on April 8th, 2000, after yoga class
Wait a minute!
There is no close to die, is there?
Close is relative. a minute? a second?
Either you are dead or you are alive.
Some of us die and come back.
Others die and stay dead.
You may know some of each.
The ones that come back write books.
The ones that stay dead don’t respond to
“Hello! Is anyone in here/there?”
this is not what I/me/mind intended,
to follow along the trail of death and dying.
We were going to discuss a turning point.
So let’s return to April 8th, 2000
when my co-workers could not find me,
at home or in any local hospitals.
Eventually, they did find me,
laid out in the emergency room
of Harbor View Hospital in Seattle.
After the early morning yoga class,
the head on collision had me flown
across Puget Sound as John Doe.
The emergency personnel didn’t find my ID
that my sister found in the scrunched car
and explains why my co-workers lost me.
[Now hold on right there you guys.
Our story is closer to death than that one.
We got shot in the face. Remember?
A passing surgeon saved our life.
The cops got the bad guy (kind of),
and the orderly thought we died.]
We already told that story a while ago,
so this is going to be a rehashed new one.
Go back to sleep, so we can continue on.
folks, I had a nail-biting, tear-jerking, good tale
we were gonna’ lay out for you, BUT I just got tired.
It is 12:44 AM, and I must hit the sack or die.
There must be a Turning Point in there somewhere.