Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Heaven's Threshold has Red, Chipped Paint

I did not envision heaven’s threshold
With chipped and worn red paint
I always pictured it in gold
It’s vigil by a saint

I thought the stream beside its tread
Would be crystal, sublime
I see a river flow instead
A river known as Time

Across its brink dash children’s feet
With muddy-gilded trace
And mother is the one to greet
To let go, to embrace

I did not envision heaven’s stair
With red paint, chipped and worn
But I have held an angel there
With wing, bruised, tired or torn

And I have seen the face of God
Though I am not a saint
Heaven’s threshold warms earth’s sod
With chipped and worn, red paint


Heaven’s threshold needs paint…
But how do you close off the step
over which every hello and good-bye
to and from home passes…
worn paint on the launching pad to life…


  1. This is a heavenly poem indeed Janet! Beautiful!

  2. Beautiful, Janet. I think God sees beyond the chipped and the worn; just as he sees beyond other superficialities in life!

  3. Nice photo of you and Sanata, Carrie:) Thank-you so much for your continued support in my writing. You are a writer whose work I admire immensely!

    God Bless.

    Dear Mary, I'm so glad that God sees beyond our imperfections, because of Hos Perfection! Without that the voice of failure would manipulate and dominate us!
    I looked at that old step, realizing that now it will need to wait until spring for a fresh coat of paint...realizing that 99% of everyone who comes here passes over these steps...at least twice, and that I am glad the paint is worn...that means people in our lives...and love:)

    Thank-you Mary for your continued interest and encouragement.
    God Bless,


Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!