Paradise

There was our Heaven
tending sheep and cows,
sliding down hillsides on
cardboard and the laughter
of children.

There was our Heaven,
stoning mangoes and
feeding them to goats just
to watch them spit
out the seed.

There was our Heaven,
where the wind blew through
wavy grass and we
fished tadpoles from the tank
and sang to the sea.

There was our Heaven,
where quietly we wondered why
this hillside was named Paradise
when church and school taught
it was always elsewhere.

There was our Heaven,
On Paradise Hill,
we alone knew the truth of it,
but forgot again on each
trek homewards