Heaven is beneath your mother’s feet.
A friend said this to me,
and though I smiled,
I did not understand.
It means many things, she said.
Many things to many people.
It means what you want it to mean.
What you need it to mean.
But there is beauty as well
in the simple melodious words.
They speak to me,
paint a picture in my mind.
And though I cannot describe it to you,
I see it clear as morning sun.
I feel it in my bones.
I hear it in the breathing of the trees.
As close to a genuine truth
as I have encountered in this life.
Perhaps as close as I will ever come.