an out-of-the-body experience

Knowing exactly
where in my world I am              in which room
                                    in which chair
                                    in the corner away from the light

and seeing myself                   as a tree
a rowan full grown                  shorn of all boughs
                                    
blown in from                       my infant school play.

                                    I stand at the window 
                                    furthest from me

                                    hands full of green boughs -
                                    Green Giant...  that me?
Leaves, berries and flowers
and twigs fill the space            where my features should be.

Standing my ground
as if planted
unaware
                                    for awhile
                                    that it's me.

                                    All else in flux
what you see
is not what you get.

People pass by
people I know
                                    soft shadows fly
                                    over the ground
                                    rotating like blades 
                                    on a slow ceiling fan
                                    or headlights of cars
                                    turning the corner
(When shadows caress
I regain human form
my features appear                  then are gone
                                    in the next flash of light.)

A man with a horse
a friend on his bike
my aunt - or great aunt             (the features are blurred)
                                    having taken the veil
                                    Sister of Mercy
                                    she mumbles the prayer
                                    Jo said in the play

and Mary, my friend                 who sang in the play.

Febrile the mist                    (one hundred and five - 
                                    I'll be told)
that descends on my eyes.

I look over at me.                  The distant,"new" me
                                    and the me that I am
                                    are locked in embrace
We're leaning
unstable
the room sways and spins.

Mini-beasts.                        Each larger than life.
From the bark.
Crawl over me.
Centipedes.
Beetles.
Spiders with hairs.                 Spinning their silks, 
                                    not making their webs.
It goes dark.
Then brightens again.
Then back to dark.

Leaves.                             Falling around me.
                                    Blowing away.
Are luminous faces
lighting the day. 

And mother's (with Lucozade) 
"Welcome back darling!"  

I have sung through it all of The Runaway Train running over the 
tracks. Remarkably, though, I've no recall of that.