when I get to heaven I shall weep and I'll dance
for yesterday's death and for tomorrow's chance,
for the skin that I've shed and the wings that I've grown,
for the grace that I've found and the love that I've known.
when I get to heaven I shall thank God for
the flowers in the garden, the waves against the shore,
the companion of words, the comfort of song,
the right to be free, the freedom to be wrong.
when I get to heaven I shall ask God why
the road was so lonely and so void of light;
I shall pluck each thorn from my life-scarred flesh
and bury myself in his fatherly chest.
when I get to heaven I shall shake my fist
with a holy anger for all that was missed;
for the broken hearts, for the martyr's stone,
for the orphaned child that never found home.
when I get to heaven I shall wave farewell
to forces against humanity that woke up in hell;
to the ones that broke me without regret or excuse,
to the others that bound me with the cords of abuse.
yes, when I get to heaven I shall weep and I'll dance
for the rest of my soul and the work of my hands,
for when this fading daylight's dusky tome
finally resolves, I will wake up at home.
my weariness is swallowed up in this enormous, dusky sky
stars appear each in their own turn
dogs bark in the distance telling their stories of friend and foe
an airplane slowly passes overhead,
the hum only slightly heard over the humdrum of this moment
lights flick on and click off down this street as neighbors slowly migrate from television to crossword puzzle book,
from recliner to bed
as the last drops of daylight slip behind the far mountain,
fireflies take up the evening torch with their mad and untraceable dance
my loneliness is swallowed up in this grand silence,
the hum of my world only slightly heard over the humdrum of this moment
and now i join the evening migration
flick on, click off.
about the writer.
“Words are only postage stamps delivering the object for you to unwrap” (George Bernard Shaw)