Sometimes Heaven Remains Silent
Sometimes heaven is silent; the only reminder of heaven’s continuing existence are the stars that masquerade as the cracks in the boundary between heaven and earth.
Sometimes it seems that the only soul that mattered has left behind a desolate earth and brightened up the heavens. As we stand at the grave, that desolate place where love and grief unite, it sometimes seems that we stand in purgatory imploring heaven’s sealed gateway to open.
Despite the stone that promises you lie just beneath our feet, you seem so far away. We lay flowers as evidence to passers-by that we still care; they wither and then they die. Perhaps these flowers accept that the only way to reach you through the impermeable barrier of the grave is death.
We call at the skies, perhaps to offer a trade that only a parent’s love could attempt; but the path to heaven only flows in a single direction. Heaven reveals nothing of its beauty; its only answer is the rain; perhaps this is the angels’ tears, upset only because we are upset.
On our courageous days, we fight against the silence that enshrouds us; we speak your name against a wall of indifference. We often go home, alone and defeated, where we hide behinds the walls of what should have been your family home and live with whatever secrets we hold.
At night, we are stalked in our dreams by unlived memories of what should have been. The visions we allow our tearful eyes to glimpse of others playing with their children in the parks are morphed into transient memories of our own. The joy we feel in these dreams is quickly extinguished, as the first tentative rays of twilight creep into our bedrooms.
In search of relief, we pay spiritualists who offer nothing but false hope; we implore the silent saints who offer nothing but continual hope. Regardless of what we do and what avenues we pursue, you remain hidden.
Perhaps you are only one step behind; the timelessness of heaven requires no urgency in your steps. Perhaps you are just one step ahead; forever disappearing around the twisting corridors of time as you run squealing in delight, excited by the real freedom you now enjoy. Perhaps you walk beside us, hidden in plain sight; a chameleon that blends with whatever roads we tread.
Sometimes, from time to time, we glimpse an unseen light in our mind’s eye; perhaps you have dropped the lantern that guides you and it sparks on the ground. Then, for only an instant, we see your face. Before we can focus, you are gone; nonetheless, it brings hope that one day Heaven will no longer maintain its silence. For this reason only, we carry on.