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Why am I still here?
she asks herself again. 
The mound of hair lying in her palm 
feels heavy like dying worms
trying in vain to squirm away. 
When her husband sees her,
fragile as a broken-winged bird
in her loose nightgown,
he takes the brush from her hand
and weakly smiles as he chokes down
tears. He cannot hide his guilt or pain,
thinking he's the one who should be brave. 
Outside, an owl dives into the grassy
field. For a moment, she can feel 
the brush of its wings in the breeze,  
but he only feels her suffering
and the thickness of looming death
in the cloud of her labored breath.
Most of all, he feels a desperate ache,
reminding of the loneliness 
that awaits him. 
Despite her constant pain, 
she feels buoyant today.
The gravitational pull
she once felt in her bones
no longer draws her 
towards the earth’s core.
She almost feels like God, himself,
was reaching down from Heaven 
to pull her into His embrace, 
like a father welcoming his child home.
In the mirror, she looks behind 
the dull shade of her listless eyes 
and sees the beautiful colors 
of omniscient love. She sees Heaven. 
The contradictions of divine reflection
are indescribable. Light that is brighter 
and more vivid than the sunniest day 
in summer fills her being. Yet, it glows soft
and serene, like an eternal flame
to comfort her from within. 
She prays 
that she may 
harness the light, 
a loving warmth
to heal his hurt,
to share with him 
                                    always. 


Written 5/27/20 for Regina Riddle’s
Heaven Contest

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