As I rolled over and read my messages this morning, I saw
one from a old bearded man.
Today, if you pray, you may save a moment for Nepal.
Viewing Heaven
*****
If there is a heaven
on Earth
For some, it must be
a warm glow soaked
Sunday afternoon,
without a care
And a hand grasping a
grape jelly jar of deep gold bourbon
A scene of rolling
hills spread out
And the silence of a
Sunday afternoon bourbon
On a hillside in
Kentucky.
***
For others, heaven is
a tussle of warm cotton sheets
And the snuggle of a
cat that has jumped at a flash
Just a few, too few,
not many times.
Together laying there
in the silent understanding
Of mutual love, with
the road
And the roar somewhere
far away,
an infinite journey
to take maybe
tomorrow,
maybe some other day.
***
Finally
For a few
From the peaks
of dream mountains,
to the ancient
temples below,
Heaven fell today.
Amid a linger of
incense and flutter of prayer flags
Monks cry.
With those that felt
heaven fall, they wander battered streets
To search for the
buried and crushed.
Soul spirits that
held strong as gunstocks smashed them
Uselessly.
Soul spirits that
managed a prayer of peace and love.
Hands clasped in
solace at the silence of the world outside
And worn smooth by
the simplicity of life.
Today heaven fell not
by man and marching toy soldiers,
But heaven came down
by a restless surge in the earth.
By a rock, a boulder
and power of a restless surge.
They will cry and dig
and look tonight for a simple place
To watch the prayer
flag flutter and the incense curl burn swirls
And sweeten the air
they breathe
And find somehow amid
their dusty tears, to be thankful
For the living and
the dead.
And maybe heaven
tonight will be a sip of water and a spoon of rice.
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