Our Own Special Church

By Jason Hawkins

The closest I have been to heaven is from the tower of a sportfisher. Planes have ceilings. Tall buildings have a roof. The mountains are cloaked in clouds. For me, it is 47 feet off a cobalt carpet of blue and purple and deep and forever and there is no bow or stern or north or south and heaven is this place in a tower.

Here, the left short is the place to watch. They come in, just inside. The pectoral fins are fluorescent and bright, and they dart left and right, and they paddle with four kicks and are here and then not and then they are behind the right long.

There is endlessness here. There are connections and deflection and from this distance away from the world and the land and the trees and the roadways and the people and the things, there is reflection. This is why we pray. This is finding faith and forgiveness and peace and purpose and place and the sargassum is scattered in a line and the blue is a sharp edge and for an expanse in