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
Janet
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…
This is a heavenly poem indeed Janet! Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Janet. I think God sees beyond the chipped and the worn; just as he sees beyond other superficialities in life!
ReplyDeleteNice 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!
ReplyDeleteGod 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,