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Eclipse Of Heaven
by Gladys Henderson
The warmth of my hand
traces an image
on the transparent pane
of a startled bird
spilling her wings
over the glass.
I cup my fingers,
press my ear closer,
hover between
the two worlds, and hear
my mother’s voice.
In staccato movements
her body is revealed,
whole and perfect
the way I remember
from childhood.
I see her hands,
the curve of her neck,
her flowered apron.
She is joyful,
walks with others,
looks towards the window
as if someone calls her name.
How could this be?
Two worlds casting
their shadows,
one onto the other.
Perhaps this is an eclipse
of heaven, a madness
that would not mend.