Four hundred years before a light of heaven
stood poised beneath a blue and portly arch:
where’d heaven gone? Heaven, your strength
of independence and perseverance who loves
what you love. At the setting and rising of the
sun, heavens and earth blossom out in colors
of kings and queens. Certain heaven’s infinite
time for the newly registered, as they unfold.
It can be little heaven there: it felt very near,
surely near. Now I sit and know heaven right
here. So all our dreams toward heaven grew,
smiling right down from the blue. Raising up
our song, swelling to heaven loud, now night
sits on heaven’s throne with monk-like robes
around: boys, girls, all there in heaven above.
. . . . .
Found Prose Poem by Susan Powers Bourne
Source: Prairie Poets, 1949