The exorcism was short, brutal
after five days of possession , the toxins
had weakened my body, drained my senses
but on the sixth, a little miracle happened;
my body did not convulse or levitate
nor my head spin round like Linda Blair
but all the toxins pored out of me in a holy sauna,
soaking my underclothes, shirt, track pants,
the sheet I was lying on, all soggy and cold
but I was clean, strong, rejuvenated,
the only sign, the stigmata of possession,
two scars on my upper lip, healing, healing
movie poster courtesy of Pinterest
I was driving back from the gym when I heard it
for the very first time,
that unmistakable voice,
a little gravely now, less freewheeling,
that knocked me right out of orbit.
It was one of those moments when you have to pull over
to the side of the road, and give yourself
completely to the song;
“Purple Rain’ was like that,
Neil Young’s ‘After the Gold Rush’
and the soaring piano, guitar segue from ‘Layla’.
You receive the stigmata of otherness.
It changes your whole day and lingers for weeks.
Perhaps never leaves you.
Then there’s the personal accounting,
where you’ve messed up, missed out,
fallen short of the mark, the roads not taken.
It takes a song to shake you like this:
‘Guess it’s too late to say the things to you,
you needed to hear me say,
Seen a shooting star tonight
*what songs have the power to transport you?
I pulled aside the blinds
that occluded my mind
Sunshine rushed in like
Water down a spillway
It felt so good, so holy
I knew I’d be okay
If I pulled aside the blinds
let in the sun’s rays