If I Only Look Up

Here I go again, lifting a hand in praise only to drop it when it tires. Focusing intently on the spot I last saw you, only for something to flicker in my peripheral view. Propping my head upwards with all the braces and contraptions I can find, in order to “set my mind on things above, not on earthly things.”

My neck is cramping, when finally: a spark. It’s being kindled right in front of me – in the dead center of this vision I’ve erected for myself. A reward for all my searching. But lo, as it lights, it creeps down, first slowly, then into a plunge. I strain my body to stay fixed on its brilliance, but the splint I’ve devised keeps me facing the void, out of sight of your star.

Alright, fine, if that’s how you want it.

Yanking my head from its chaining shrine, intended for a shot at righteousness, my eyes finally fall toward the fallen earth, and your fallen star. I find it lighting not one spot, but many. It is growing, multiplying. One minute, in the hosta blooms emerging from their roots. Another, in the faces of those I hold dear. Then in the forming of potter’s clay, and musical compositions, and science projects. Then in my own mind, imagination darting wildly like a wakened child.

Here is your temple, here are the fractals of glory you were talking about – not ones you have to pull out a telescope or keep opening the same wardrobe door to find, but the ones that have taken a fall for us. They take on the unstained humility of their Maker, don’t they? Descending from their perfect placement up there, to where we can touch and taste them down here?

And I come to think, maybe the things above have come to live with us. Maybe my heart + mind can be set on the things above that I see, in part, right here. Maybe if I only look up, I’m missing you. ✨

~ E.M.H.