Reformed Heaven

Mama always told me of a place
Where happiness filled, and my creator lived
She called it Heaven
Like Santa Claus gifting at Christmas,
Only people on the nice list get in

So Mama said to read the Bible, and be obedient
To pray always
For the living and the dead, the known and unknown
She said it was heaven's pass
So every night,
With heavy eyes,
Feeble hands clasped together,
And weary knees to the floor
A ritual of supplications and intercessions were offered

Growing up, I got overwhelmed by life's race
I fell short of grace
And forsook Mama's rites
Full of distress and uncertainty,
I sought to discover the Heaven Mama used to talk of

In an endless search, I starved, and burned my soul
Until I helped that old Lady cross the road
And fed that hungry homeless man
Alas! I found it.
Not Mama's heaven
My own heaven

While good deeds may not be a pass into Mama's heaven
I feel fulfilled
For I have found my own heaven
In the rewarding smile of an uplifted soul