I will Miss Heaven: An Atheist's Soliloquy

we laid in the garden,

my lover and I, she

amongst the clouds

and blues of the sky,

I in our garden of

red and white poppies.

One day there will be

no poems and all

my intimacies

with god will be tender

recollections of love,

poignant memories of

desire and ashes.

Though an atheist by

necessity, I have loved

you with an ardor and

reverence that not

even the Pope could

imagine or aspire to.

A blade of grass is

as inspired as a steeple.

God and I have been

tempestuous lovers,

rousing arguments,

but mostly they were

arguments with

myself.

I kicked open the

door to your boudoir,

with muddy boots,

ripped aside the

curtains, but you

were filing your

fingernails gazing

at the astral blue

clarity of the sky.

Two eunuchs stood

guard at the door,

Desire and Gnosis.

Perhaps a

a ménage a quatre?

The shimmy shake

with Gnosis, Desire,

et toi – mi amor?

I longed to lie in

the nesting chambered

nautilus of lovers,

but knowing and loving

only begins in the

surrender to love.

In this I failed, again

and again, and

chained myself to the

wheel of expectation.

There is no freedom

in love or desire, but

in my quest for

intimacy with you,

dios de mi amor,

I’ve found the

redemption of our

private secret loving.

…in the garden,

my lover and I.