House of Heaven – a poem by Alison Townsend


House of Heaven
“My favorite house is my mother”
Haya Alyan

Sometimes, when caught in the jaws
of fear or trouble, I talk with my mother
in a quiet room in my heart. We are in a house
where I have never lived but which I know well—
chintz armchairs, a fireplace, a four-poster bed,
and large, mullioned windows cranked open
on woods and fields. And my last cat, alive
in his plush tuxedo, there on the window
seat overlooking all that green. I understand
that this is heaven, though I do not know
why I am allowed to see it now, no distance
here between dead and living hearts. My mother
is in the room, and I am, too, though I am also
in my world, so far away from hers. I ask
her questions, seeking reassurance, and she tells
me exactly what I need to know. Our voices blur
inside my body until I cannot tell if what I understand
is my own wisdom or what she has become in me,
these sixty years since her death. But that doesn’t
really matter. What matters is that she is here
and I am, too. My heart is in my body.
And my body knows what it knows.
Night comes and goes, dawn pinks the sky,
the cat sleeps, wakes, purrs his bass rumble.
And still we talk. I am always rested in this place
where everything is holy and everything is safe,
the rise and fall of our voices like quiet music
reminding me that all shall be well, no matter
what happens. I trace the stitches in her patchwork
quilt the way I did as a girl, everything so real
I can feel my pulse beating in one finger.
When I rise to leave, she cradles my face
in her hands for a moment before they drop
into the wild, blue floral of her skirt, hushed
as sleeping doves. And then I am alone again,
my heart my own house, in a different room,
this other place, where I must live without her.


Alison Townsend’s books include the PEN/America shortlisted memoir, The Green Hour, Persephone in America, and The Blue Dress. Recognized in Best American Poetry, The Pushcart Prize, and Best American Essays, she is professor emerita of English at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater.

2 Comments

  1. This is beautiful. My friend in real life had a similar experience with her late mother.

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  2. Very deep and endearing poem

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