Light From Heaven

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