Heaven

Maybe it’s a place
like I see sometimes
in my dreams.

We are all children
about four years old
and we are playing
the way children
this age do-
with total abandon
in the moment.
Running, climbing,
light and exuberant,
happy just to be.

Reborn as the delight
of God’s creation.

All the damage, the pain
sustained in the world
has melted away.
There is no child
kicking the dirt
along the sidelines,
none that stomps off,
pouting, no little girl,
thumb in her mouth,
watching hesitantly
from a distance.

Fears forgotten,
we live immersed
in the everlasting
moment
of play.

A small boy appears now
on the horizon.
He has just arrived,
but this place is not
unfamiliar to him.
It has always
lived in him.

As he watches,
some children run by
chasing a ball.
A laugh lights up
inside of him,
and like wings,
carries him into play.

By Maria Brady-Smith
Photo by Mike Smith