Palaces in The Mist by Sarah Tate

Does heaven appear for a moment
there in the rich, red line of the horizon?
Or perhaps the random patterns of firefly light
flashing against the brush act as streetlights
leading us through the purple twilight roads,
guiding us gently to a better country?

As if the very world is only stain glass,
and color springs with a little splash of light!
And what about all these shadows,
the thumbprints in the clouds, the veins
in the rivers, in the leaves, the evidence of God,
when the day dawns so bright and gleaming
that it seems suffering has blown far out to sea?

The very faces of heaven appear
within that line between the earth,
the sky, and our own hooded eyes.
The world turns just so for a moment
when an unexpected burst of sunbeams
whitens the curtains, when a different
kind of silence settles into a dark room
while rain steaks against a window,
almost as intimate as tears.

Suddenly, the place where the shadows stem from
rises like a palace from the morning mist below.
How do I already know the gates will be open?

I am a writer, a poet, and am passionate about how literature can capture both the light and shadows of human existence and highlight God’s tender heart and all-consuming love. I live in rural Virginia where God especially uses his creation to display his creativity and beauty.