Foot Race to Heaven

Foot Race to Heaven

In soil,

there is a world.

Spacious down there,

in the world

no one knows,

silence runs in rivers

soil bathes stone

never closed

never open,

safe for burial

down there.

It’s the bible of your life.

Here, tears roar

loud, laughing.

We don’t

know when

quiet will rule,

we want it to

but need instructions first,

we fight the clock,

there is no contest,

time holds the schedule,

for us,

immigrants in her gorgeous ship

with no destination in mind

no rudders just float,

a plane to catch,

train missed,

meal forgotten,

kiss not.

Our fault.

Stop and witness

the weed in concrete.

It struggles too

in a life just as tough,

no cabs to catch

just sun will do

some water

today, or not,

it knows,

what is lost on us,

it came from

down there.

The roots

of all living things,

cascade through

the earth,

as fingers feeding balance,

dark, savage, and lovely

under there,

birth,

the end and beginning.

Yes.

Cathedrals for rest,

and rise,

blooming beneath

times silent machine,

life.

Here is the fight,

under our feet,

the finish and start.

Down

in the down,

dark, brittle breath

unheard purchase

of first faint voice…

There,

life, yes.

Hayward 2006