©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson
We’re flying down the highway
on a bright, sunshiny day.
The skies are blue, the clouds colored
in white and violet-gray.
Soft shapes of sheep and ice cream scoops
adorn the azure heights.
Below, the road that carries us
sparkles reflective light.
The vast horizon stretches wide,
a stirring sight to see;
and yet, two hearts fall short of soaring:
lifted, but not free.
Our ballast lies six months behind us,
nestled in the ground.
A part of us is tethered there,
by love and yearning bound.
It aches to leave that lonely grave,
awash in mud and rain.
(We try to keep it clean, Todd,
even though it be in vain.)
Yet, while that’s as it should be now,
the living hold us, too.
To sacrifice the sun can be
no fitting gift to you.
Instead, when our hearts turn your way,
we should take wing and soar…
for heaven is your homeland.
You are of the earth no more.