pictured words

It was a grave reaction
to I.V. antibiotic.
The medical staff had
moments to respond and stabilize
as his numbers instantly plummeted:
blood pressure
heart rate
oxygen level

I did all I could do: 
feverishly fan
and fervently pray.

A while after he was stabilized
and we were alone,
he asked me,
“Was I singing?”

Singing??
I wasn’t sure if he was yet “all there.”
Then he explained.

I saw the numbers.  I felt like I was leaving.
Then I found myself somewhere else.
Somewhere black. 
Not scary pitch black. 
Soft black.

I wasn’t touching the ground.
Yet I wasn’t being held up by anything I could feel.
Simply suspended. 

I heard singing. 
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”
The Doxology.
I sang with them, belting it out
with all my heart. 
Strongly.  Clearly.
Beautifully.
Not my usual muffled-mushy voice.

And I felt peace. 
Utter peace
like I have never felt before. 

And I knew that if this is all there is,
I’m okay with that.
Much more than okay.

He also described being unaware
of how much time he spent “there.”
It could have been moments.
It could have been hours. 
Time was meaningless.

It seemed to me
he was astonishingly
neither fully here
nor fully there,
yet fully present
in both.

© Marie Elena Good 2026

(in response to “veil” prompt)