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Posts Tagged ‘heaven’

Rapture

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on May 14, 2024| 10 Comments »

 
Beside the river we stop mid-step, stilled
by sharp, shrill notes that hammer the air,
pip-pip-pip-pip-pip-pip.
And though we don’t see the whimbrel,
we train our eyes toward the leaves
from which the sound came, and we listen.
Listen longer. Our bodies still, until,
once again, we hear the call.
It’s not beautiful, no, but insistent.
Like a teacher who smacks a ruler to her palm
to call the class to attention.
Only now do I look back and wonder
if this is a kind of heaven—not the call itself,
but the listening that comes after,
the way we stop, enthralled together,
our senses stripped of self, our bodies
tuning with wonder, thrill lacing
our spellbound silence as we slip
through the narrow gate of amazement
and more wholly into the world.

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One Lift

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on October 6, 2019| Leave a Comment »

 

 

hungry for truth

she pickpockets heaven—

unaware she’s the target

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That’s How the Joy Gets In

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on October 1, 2019| 2 Comments »

 

for Jack Ridl

 

 

My friend Jack is really St. Peter.

I trust him. He has a knack

for finding the good in people,

 

for bringing it out. He has a way

of creating Eden out of a blank page,

out of a living room, out of pixels.

 

He knows the gate to paradise

is right here. He knows how to say,

“Fuck death.” He knows how to love

 

the world, how to hold those

who need to be held, how to care.

I am not always so sure I believe

 

in God, but I always believe in Jack.

Sometimes when I ache, when

I don’t know how to write another word,

 

Jack will send me a note. He’ll say

something like, “Grief is an ambush,”

and then, just knowing he understands,

 

I go on. I watch the willows turn yellow.

And Jack is here, too, holding open the pearly gate

so that heaven will slip through to this world.

 

He’s got his cup of coffee ready, and one for you

and me, too, to toast to all the beauty that is,

to all the beauty still left to be made.

 

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