Dancing Bear

All Saints' Day

1.

Let us not speak of the heaven

we think we see

beyond the lining of this life.

Let our lips purse

where our praying hands meet them,

but never open to utter a plea.

Let us think of this world

in these quiet moments

as the heaven we can make

out of the broken

glass sky and over-tilled land.

Let us not speak of the augmented soul

that others shine a halo over

and pronounce them something

greater than human.

Let us look into our fractures

running a finger along the cracks

to see where value first arises.

Let us ascend the slow ladder

to our own better lives

which circle above our heads

like unanswered prayers.

2.

All the saints knew the same thing:

it was never about the promises

of a clouded heaven—

everything was about living

(and yes, dying)

for this gift of blue and green

in the vacuum of spinning stellar arms

and their devourers.

Here on the edge of campaign banners

and comfortable old lies

we cannot lay for one night

on the truth of the hard earth.

3.

The rich men are flooding into the churches, holding their gold embossed bibles, crossing their fingers behind their backs and they sing the old hymnals. They pray for excess while in subsequent pews the starved bellies are embarrassed to gurgle in the face of god. These sunday-suited men will speak of your bootstraps and something within you that is broken and worse yet, lacks the desire to be fixed. These are the ones who stand outside of any true heaven. Do not think of your body as a wafer to be eaten. Do not think of your blood as wine. A house of the lord is wherever you sleep tonight. It has no gold or wealth. The closer to dirt you are, the nearer your god awaits.

4.

Let us not speak of all the heavens

each of us thinks we know

will open up to us upon our deaths.

Everything we need for heaven

is around us and within

no matter where we go.

© Dancing Bear 

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