When Heaven Isn’t Heaven
Until death do we part? It comes and goes floats away? Have I lived a life of love and pain to die alone and die in vain? This sharpened crushing and crusading noise, this complaining voice, avoiding the chorus of a choir which bored and broke the hollowÂ home. It shook the shallow bone. This flinching, wincing and falling in time. It falls and fails its own flailing rhyme; a philosophy which lacks a familiar spine. What is one without the other? Is heaven still heaven without my mother? Should I wait and see that final day to hate or flee from what never was a fresh, a smiling day? That moment when I closed my tired, torn and dying eyes, I saw a floating, fleeting spectral there, above my bed and still alive, I felt my flesh begin to sing, joined by a familial symphony. Just a dream? Then cast me down to where they are, to earth, to hell or flung into the prisonâ€™s care for heaven isnâ€™t heaven without each and every of my loved ones there.