Door

Wide-open Door, beneath Your bow 

I lean; Your crossèd frame

all tremor, torrent, tempest's blow

abjures, true-speaks Your claim.

Deep-stainèd Portal, hyssop-kissed

and drenched in knife-drawn life, 

by You souls flee the tombs and twists

of sin and guilt and grief.

And through You, Gate, must any flee 

who prize what cannot stain; 

who grasp at immortality, 

Yourself thereby to gain.

Beneath Your lintel, blessèd Door

I lean, and never fall. 

Add my own sanguine drops to Yours; 

See, here, I bring Your awl. 

~

AMDG