The Door of Heaven

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The Door of Heaven

Very early in the morning

my taxi rockets down a mountain road

toward another airport rendezvous.

The Guatemalan night sky

is the tint of black ink,

and we round a corner

to find ourselves,

quite literally, beneath the southern horizon;

where the light from a mere sliver

of the moon–suspended solitary–

is enough to vanquish

any sorrow.

As if the door of heaven,

on this commonplace morning

was intentionally left ajar.