On the Playing of Harps

Remember that photograph of the sailor
Coming off the boat at the end of WWII;
He finds his girlfriend,
Sweeps her off her feet?
That's gonna be my soul
When it finds my body at the resurrection.

If in heaven they neither marry nor are given in marriage,
And yet marriage is a mystery that refers to Christ and the church,
Then seems not wholly and yet not yet in-
Appropriate to call the joy of heaven
Orgiastic.

It's not gonna be floating around breezily
Playing some dumbass harps.
We're gonna be free from the curse
That has afflicted us so long.
We're gonna be with the most intensely beautiful being in the universe,
Who redeemed us,
Soul and body.
The manifestation
The embodiment
The author, source, and end
Of peace
Of joy
Of love.

It's gonna be a freakin PARTY.

Bebby Thor

They say that animals, having no soul,
When they die are never borne to heaven,
And I believe that.
But who can say,
When God shall recreate this pleasant earth,
Whether we find again my mother’s cat?​

Meditation on Constancy

When the prophet says of God,
His mercies are new every morning,
Does God change?
Or does finity, trial and sin, give daily
Occasion to seek again some gracious facet.
What is the church but a million fireflies
Squinting close upon a diamond.