All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
heaven is the woods behind my childhood home
when i go:
scatter my ashes in that clear cold stream.
let the current take me down,
down,
to that small place,
where god stains her cheeks with river-clay
and cicadas scream sweet hymnals.
where life is raw and quiet and sublime
and the worms find heaven in
the damp dark spaces.
i will scrape my knees on mossed concrete
wash the blood in the water like isaac upon the altar.
in that small place i am holy;
i am whole.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
I have a powerful nostalgia for places that cannot be returned to. The creek behind my old house still exists, but even if I were to go back there physically, I still could not go back. I am no longer a little girl; I have changed too much to truly return. This poem is an homage to the happiest place of my childhood, and a longing to find it again.