The Myth of Reward in the Afterward

True north, true home, fixed 
star of our multiple orientations—

that toward which we'll nudge
the nose of our ship, point the tip

of a walking cane, guide the beams of 
a torch or lantern. When we die, 

how will we know which key will fit into
which lock, which door will open, what 

jetway leads to a field where dragonflies 
are taking off in brilliant groups of silver?  

Once, I might have fallen for the old catechism 
about how all we love will be our reward in the after. 

But that's not a heaven I want— Instead, I just want 
to not have to work through this life alone, on my own. 

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