Hope Can Be Our Heaven


Christina Brady, Staff Writer

Music stand, an easel,

Sings notes in color today.

She takes me to the northern lights.

And the ice,

A bird,

a hooting tune…

shrieking thanks to the howling air.

Her wind haunts me with magic,

the bright lights of the stars. 

But all in a fortress of darkness, 

it’s a planet from mars. 

Or Jupiter.  Or Venus.

Cause in the gulf of the same,

it all looks like heaven.

As ice hangs down from the trees 

and the snow shields their branches,

She’s comfortable I see.

And I am like the tree who I wish to be.

Or maybe I just hail to see the stars,

but can I only reach this far. 

And in this way, 

I haven’t quite met halfway 

but that’s okay today

cause these lights are the stars.

And hope can be our heaven.