Wednesday, November 18, 2009

To My Father's House

i'm coming to my Father's house.
i have the key,
now, where is it?
check my pockets?
i can be so irresponsible sometimes.
hmm, i know i have it...?
leafing through my Bible,
my prayer books
my papers.
then i'm thinking;
i suppose i could knock?
i could shout, he'd hear me?
kick the door down?
i'm not sure that would be good?
check under the mat
and behind the flowerpot?
this is getting frustrating!
wait a minute,
yes there it was all the time,
around my neck
close to my heart.
the one given me by my older brother.
i slip the braided leather cord
over my head,
looking closely
at the large nails
formed into a crude key
with a carved wooden handle
i slip it into the key hole
it fits perfectly.
turning to the right
i hear the clunk
of the mechanism.
i step into the well lit foyer
and remove my coat and baggage,
my shoes and hat.
crossing the floor
i reach the french doors
and slide them gently.
there is soft music,
i recognize the song
and join in.
closing my eyes i stop for a moment
meditating upon the words.
the carpeted floor is warm and soft.
i cross it to another set of doors.
these doors have beautiful stained glass.
i speak the words i see etched
on the glass and smile.
i knock softly before entering.
the room is swelling with more music,
love songs.
in the background i hear
my sibling's voices
and the reassuring voice
of our Father.
"Hello Daddy."
"Hello son," he says,
"Tell me about your day." He inquires.
i run into His outstretched arms. (L)

No comments: