Monday, April 16, 2012

Where the Hell is Heaven?

A bit of prose to explain the story of this picture and this poem. It's not a poem I find well written at all. No rhyme, no structure, no art. I was in the car somewhere in Batangas and I looked at the sky. I saw the silver lining of the clouds, admired it, mused over what the silver lining is to Rita's death. And I started wondering as I looked up if Rita looked down at me, at us. I have no biblical references to bank on, and I refuse to accept what people claim to be true just to make people who grieve feel good.  This is a hastily written poem on my my IPad, and I do not have the heart, nor the energy, to rework this. 

Where the Hell is Heaven?

Do you see me
when i look up to the clouds
thinking of you?

When people tell me
what they think i want to hear
is it true
that you  watch over me
from up above?

Where are you geographically?
Because i've never seen a map
with  directions to heaven.
Google 's no use.

Can you hear me
greet you in the morning?
When I call your name in the darkness
and ask why you had to go away?

Can you see my face crumple
and my heart crumble
because I still have not stopped mourning,
wishing, crying?

Do you know when my heart is sighing?
Do you feel it when despite the pain I laugh?
Can you feel any better knowing I'm moving on?

Or are you oblivious
because  the joys of heaven
fill your days and sate your needs?

Do you count the days or years
When we see each other again?

Do you pray for what i pray for--
a grand reunion of everyone we love.

All the gadgets and widgets can 't help me
to hear you
see you
have you within arm 's reach.

Maybe I don't know where heaven is.
But I know you are here
a breath away
in my heart
where you'll be forever
until I can have you again
in a heavenly embrace.


When do I stop hoping it's not true?
When willl I stop missing you?
When do I stop wishing for the impossible?
When do I stop asking why it happened at all?

When does it sink in?
How do I move on?
When does it start to make sense?
When willl the grieving be in past perfect tense?

Will I ever feel complete again?
Will I ever find peace that transcends?
Willl there ever be a day when I don't think of you?
Will I ever forgive myself for the things I did not do?

How do I make the crying stop?
How do I tell my nagging brain to shut up?
How do I tell my heart not to hurt anymore?
All this agony, what is it for?

When? How? Why?
So many questions crowd my mind.
And I have to accept that for a lot of them
The answers I just won"t find.