You are in my pocket lying right next to my warm body, your face resting against my hip as my phone rings a dropped signal.
We communicate in a trio of clouds above mountain ranges, our words aloft in a whirlwind of natural frequencies.
The Appalachians, the Smokies, the Rockies, create an electrified, rarefied atmosphere our hopes, dreams and emotions live in.
I want to answer the call I hear ringing through my headphones, vibrating against my skin, teasing my mind.
Storms flash flood dangerously here as heat swelters unrelenting there, and the connection is disrupted.
It was an accidental dialing, but it did not matter because the connection to me was open in the cloud as I lay listening against your warm body.
I was open in your pocket as the airwaves danced with extreme weather, as I moved against your skin, a mere tap from a breathy whisper upon your soul.
You didn’t know I was there. I didn’t know I was there with rough words and smooth sighs touching you through the fabric.
I hold you to my chest. My palm slick with sweat as I hold your cool glass face to my heart. The future beckons while the ringtone cracks and falls into the abyss of missed chances.
Somewhere in the steam drenched foothills. Somewhere above rolling green ridges. Some place intimately close and yet far away.
Two broken wings…
In airplane mode…
© Jazzi Ryan Ranes
Dear family, friends and foes,
I write this letter to those of you who have passed on to another plane of existence. I wish to express my gratitude and respect on behalf of the thousands of paranormal investigators and ghost hunters around the world. After many years of research, we still don’t really know why we can see and hear you sometimes and not at others.
I ask that you forgive our errors in learning about your existence. Whether you are earthbound or have moved on to the great beyond, please remember the limitations of physical existence. There are many of us here truly trying to understand and communicate with you. We are letting others know what we are finding out so that they don’t have to be afraid of you.
I want everyone here on the earth plane to remember and understand that you are human beings, have been and always will be. Our perceptions are limited again by physical laws and when you seemingly pop out of nowhere, we are startled. But if we were not afraid of you when you were in body, why should we be afraid of you now? I suppose if you were violent in body, you are probably not someone I want hanging out in my basement, attic, bedroom, etc.
But I know you wouldn’t be making the effort to communicate with us if you didn’t want us to understand that our soul or consciousness lives on after physical death. You wouldn’t communicate unless you wanted us to know what happened to you and to maybe help you with our, still as yet, limited resources.
I wish to apologize for those who try to provoke you into making your presence known by insulting you and invading your personal belongings. It is just that they want to capture evidence of your existence and since we have to deal with time issues, angering or upsetting you seems to work at times. It is not a good excuse but it is the only one we have.
I want to express my sadness for those of you who seem to remain stuck here on the earthly plane, unwilling or unable to move on. There is greater spiritual development waiting for you and you need not remain here, stuck in the past. Go home now and find your family and friends who passed before and after you. Find peace.
In closing, I again want to extend the utmost respect to you from all the investigators who are serious about finding out how it all works. Although we may appear to be nuts, (stumbling around in the dark, talking to the walls, etc.) to others and maybe even to you, we persevere in our quest for greater understanding.
If there is anything we can do or should be doing to make the communications easier, please try to let us know in the best way you can. I, for one, will continue my research and will be watching and listening closely for any sign of your presence.
Diane M. Goff