gateway

Gateway”

Across the water,

smoke lifts itself into the sky—

a thin, shaking prayer.

And I’d cross every mile of that dark river

just to hear you speak

the words that refuse to arrive

when the heart is burning for them.

Tell me—

is it your mother’s tongue that keeps you silent,

or your father’s ghosts

still nesting in your ribs?

You learned pain early,

learned it by the book:

sticks, stones,

the bright crack of bone.

Hands you begged to stop—

but didn’t.

And still you rose,

eyes red,

breath like a torn sail

catching wind again.

You tried surrender

the way some people try prayer—

head bowed,

world spinning—

until you looked up

and the sky opened like a wound and you said:

My God,

what a beautiful scene.

Now I know

what you meant all along.

Let me stay—

just a moment longer.

You are the closest door

I’ve ever found

to Heaven.

From beneath the dust,

the curtain drops again.

Another generation waits—

soft hands, full hearts—

and still the greedy few

reach out to take

what was never theirs to claim.

You see a face flicker in the shadow,

a thread slipping loose

from the fabric of tomorrow.

We are ghosts in slow rehearsal,

bodies fading

into dreamlight.

But you—

you rise again.

You press back against surrender

as if the world depends on it.

And maybe it does.

Friends, lift your faces,

let the sky receive you,

and say:

My God,

what a beautiful scene.

Now I understand.

Let me stay.

You—

you are my gateway to Heaven.