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77-7th Heavenly Ave

by Richard L. Provencher  
4/30/2010 / Death

When the sun goes down, embers of imagination overcome all silhouettes. No longer can I see the thrust of canoe paddle in the palm of my hand, as mosquitoes carouse the countryside with their hungry antics.

And I am no longer part of the landscape, since my inheritance has been left behind to those who are captives to the shock of my demise. Its suddenness, such a hasty exit from this life, and now I lay in a state of stillness.

Not long moments ago, I was active in lifes management, scratching to complete work assignments, hoping enough in the bank would pay the bills. And keep those mangy coyotes from the front steps, holding head above water, and thankfully inhaling lifes sweet breath.

All the items struggled for---car, house, furniture, cottage, clothes, position, responsibility and the love of family and friends, in abeyance for now.

What about my children, precious wife and neighbors I promised to help with a variety of neighborhood duties? Did I really think life would carry on forever? That each day would be a presentation of early sun, quick breakfasts, hugs from family and scented roses in my dash to the car and meet mornings challenge?


Now funerals done, tears have been shed, memories discussed and lifes enchantment a tendril of chimney smoke. And I am unable to even cry.


I lay in blackness; heart once a rhythm of natural movement, stillness without voices. Yet I hear something, a rustling perhaps. There it is again, something brushing againsta sort of feathery sound. Could it be, no, it couldnt. Then, without fanfare or further delay a mighty wind comes racing through my mind.

It gathers in ascending speeds until there is an awesome roaring, and I sit up with babbling lips. On earth they called it tongues. In Heaven it is Resurrection.

Open your eyes, a kindly voice suggests. And I do. Not because it is a command, nor a threat wrapped in words. It is simply a suggestion, which blankets me like a shawl of protection. And I desperately wish to respond but am unable to form words. I attempt a grunt of determination; still nothing comes forward in the air surrounding.

A whisper of an idea enters my heart, moves to my brain and thoughts pour into a bowl of thanksgiving, Oh, Creator of all, a pattern of brain activity responds.

And from that moment I knew it was not necessary to speak, but to think since an array of beautiful colors and ideas flowed in harmony. I stood up, joining other bursts of energy as they flickered but a moment then disappeared into a chasm of distance.

On the way in a new direction, I notice a mannequin in top hat and tails. It seems someone has a sense of humor, And I jet along what seems to be a well-used path.

As my spiritual body zipped forward, a strange tune captures my attention:
We dash and dance, feet barely
touching the surface, were young again
innocent, without fear or blemish,
each movement a celebration of life.

A lake shaped as a huge bowl filled with water stretches before me. It defies gravity, the whole image, far as the eye can see, sloshes invitingly. I pause, lean over and drink several swallows, drumbeats marking the occasion, as if I just succeeded in passing some sort of initiation.

Clouds in an upside-down sky mask my view. I notice what could easily be classed as a blue sky covering the surface, unblemished, radiant, and provoking to the point I could barely breathe at the awesomeness of it all.

Cliffs nearby also have a telling posture, as if resting on some unseen hand six feet above the surface of what appears to be rice crops stretching in all directions.

A new phase becomes part of my persona, energy particles now mingling with any physical or less resisting barriers. I become part of a swamp; vegetation and shallow beds of river, sharing their atoms, part and parcel a particle within their make-up until I successfully pass on through.

What if I remained in the freedom of their movement, I wonder. Would I forever be a part of this environment?

The purity of everything around me holds my attention. Music covers the area I once occupied, changing into hymns and voices lauding forgiveness. In my minds eye I sense others as wisps of color, since they too are participating in similar experiences.

This journey of discovery, unlike anything I have dealt with draws me to only one conclusion: This is surely what Heaven must be like. And my mind is drawn to other fantastic journeys.

A voice speaks into my mind, I gave you memories, it said within all that is goodness. There is no room here for tongues of deceit. I am the Light and you have been removed from darkness.

Oh how wonderful it is to know that seems to fade away, knowing it has left me for a brief time. I wish it to return soon. There are so many questions. If only I can gather close, forever, to that presence and accept loves caring as from a shepherd.

And I do long to be one of His sheep.

2010 by Richard L. Provencher

Richard enjoys writing poems; many of which have been published in Print and Online. He and his wife, Esther are also co-authors of stories and a print novel. They are "born again" Christians and very busy in their church, Abundant Life Victory International, in Bible Hill, Nova Scotia.

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