Addisyn Clapp, heav•en

heav·en /~/ n. 1. Gathered with friends, family, and familiar faces, enjoying each other’s presence as the summer sun sets. We point up at the stars, believing that each one is an angel. Whispers pass between us about what our angel looks like: do they have puffy white feathers and rosy cheeks? Will our angels stand behind a benevolent God whose arms are open wide that beckon me into the rolling hills of heaven? The place where the daffodils, peonies, and rosebuds are in eternal bloom. The place where we enjoy the fruits of spring without sniffly noses and scratchy throats. 2. After we draw our last breath, a final resting place. The grand home of God, as in the birthplace of seraphs and the absence of sin: will God beckon me past the pearly gates with open arms despite the sin that has marred and scarred my body? / the sin that has carved imposter, liar, and fraud into my skin / the skin of sin that sizzles when my fingers grace the worn leather of a Bible / the sin that brands my skin / the bubbled blisters basking in the presence of the Divine / the scars of sin that separate me from the worthy / the believers / the sin that only left scratches and bruises on the backs of the repenters / their sin will vanish with time and penance / the sin’s claws did not sink deep enough into their flesh / my sin does not balk from the gospel of Matthew, Mark, or Moroni / my sin chews up their stories of a savior / spits it at the feet of their redeemer / the sin has sunk its teeth into my neck / swallowing / gulping down my hope, peace, and innocence / time will heal all wounds / heal your heart / restore your hope / but my sin cannot be cleansed by the Jordan / the salt has already been spilt.