Beforeword: A couple weeks ago the Poet of the Week over at the Skepticskaddish introduced the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. This collection coins new words to express emotions and experiences that once had no name in English. For the prompt, we were challenged to choose one of these words, use it as the title of our poem, and either weave the word itself into the piece or capture the essence of its meaning.

I chose énouement:

n.the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, finally learning the answers to how things turned out but being unable to tell your past self.
Pronounced “ey-noo-mahn.”

The moment I read it, I knew exactly what I wanted to write. Still, the poem took me a couple of weeks to bring to life. My muse was heaven—of course, not a place I’ve been, but one I’ve imagined through the lens of biblical reflection. I’d say bittersweetness is not a term associated with heaven, but énouement captures the emotion of knowing I will never be able to turn back and tell my past self the fullness of what I now behold—an experience even greater than the words of Scripture managed to describe.

So, here now is:

Énouement

They told me,
“No eye has seen…
no ear has heard…
no mind has imagined
what God has prepared
for those who love Him.”

I believed it.
But now…
I see it.

The streets are not just gold—
they are light in motion,
alive under my feet.
The air breathes music.
Colors sing.
And Jesus—
Jesus is here,
looking at me
like He’s been waiting
since before the dawn of time
for this exact moment.

This is the ending.
The answer.
The final piece that clicks into place
and makes the whole puzzle beautiful.

Every midnight question—
answered.
Every prayer I thought went unheard—
fulfilled.
Every why—
woven into Heaven’s glory.

And yet—
there’s that feeling.
Énouement.
Not sadness—
no, never sadness—
but a tender ache
that whispers,
“If only I could tell my past self—
you made it.
And it’s so much more beautiful
than you ever dared to dream.”

But I can’t.
The past is sealed.
The road is walked.

I have fought the good fight.
I have finished the race.
I have kept the faith.
The tears are sown.
And now—
the crown, shining with stars,
is placed on my head
by the very hands of Jesus.

I’m not longing for back then—
Storms carved me,
fire refined me.
Faith tested, more precious than gold,
shines to praise, honor, glory
at Christ’s appearing.
The waiting
taught me to want Him
more than the answer.
Every tear, every trial,
every shadow I walked through—
all of it, shaping me
into the child He would crown.

No eye saw this.
No ear heard it.
No mind imagined it.
But now—
I live in it.

Énouement in heaven
is joy rooted in gratitude,
dancing in the arms of the Father,
and knowing—
He always knew the ending.

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In creative solidarity, Dee