I'm closing my eyes
Still I catch 
a slice of heaven,
a crust that falls
into my open hands

I've been a blind beggar until now

I become
a flower
that grows tall, 
touches the Sun
like those drawings I made as a girl

Where the flower touched the sky
"Teach her how to draw
Mom had said
You say I don't need no teaching, 
   don't need no pruning,
   no gardening
You let me grow
   wild and free
   trace me this way
   eyes wide

Let's become vines
I whisper
and so we morph
intertwining and strong
With your breath to water me

Our vines stretch
grow into thick beanstalks
that shoot from the
   into heaven
where people climb
   into heaven
to speak with God
about matters like love
   and that sort
and God tells them
   first you must be
   a beanstalk, and before
   and before that 
       a seed
       of two beating hearts
       where I've sprinkled
       the bones of Adam and Eve
       the vastness of the stars
       and heaven,
       of course,
    sprinkled to help you grow
    into something
  So that when you see heaven 
    in each other,
    you see me

4 thoughts on “Beanstalks

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