On the day I was lightning

I was strapped into tap dancing shoes and denim for days
Like a little girl playing with her father's clothes
And fear rose in my throat, my jaw set beneath the helmet.

I have known the sensation of flying, I have known
Joy and maybe Peace, perhaps I've even seen the face of God(s)
Yet I had never been lightning.

And there I was, my voice a Halloo
Catching my teeth, vibrating, chesire-like reflected back to me in a small round mirror
The sound and the fury, as I clung to life so close to death.
Like sleep, but better and frighteningly alive.

I was lightning. We all are. These tiny flashes in the pan.
Shouldn't it be delightful then? Shouldn't I howl?