Those who debunk the supernatural
can’t have ever experienced it
When I read about Blake seeing the soul of his brother
rise up through the ceiling clapping with joy
I remember thinking… Did this really happen?
Wasn’t it just his imagination? Surely it must have been
After all, he chatted to an angel while he and his wife
sat naked in their garden in Peckham
Am I really expected to believe all that?
And yet he wrote poems we still recite and sing today
I was dubious I must admit until my wife died
Being a Buddhist, her body should not be moved
The police wouldn’t have it. Were quite adamant
Said I had to phone an undertaker right away
When I explained that this was a matter of faith
they called their supervisor, who finally arrived
even younger-looking than them but understood
gave his permission as long as it was just three days
At first lamas and friends came and chanted
while candles flickered and incense burnt
On the second night, going to bed I stopped
Decided to sit quietly beside her
There I soon became aware of a brightness
I looked around for a source. Maybe the streetlights?
No, the blinds were down. It was nothing I could see
Then I saw the light was moving upwards
I breathed in and realized what I’d been told was true
This was her consciousness leaving her body
rippling like small waves moving towards a shore
upwards gently without a sound
Dai Vaughan lives in Glasgow, in the West of Scotland, having moved there from the Western Isles. He’s an artist and poet. His main subjects are travel and the esoteric. He’s published seven books and has given several readings in the city. He has a website, daivaughan.weebly.com, and lived and worked with his wife Jenny, also an artist and writer, for fifty-four years until her death in April 2022. Some of their work can be seen at jennyvaughan.co.uk/jenny-cv/