Something opened—
the heart the lips,
the Eastern gate—
I’m not sure what,
but something opened.
I looked into the passage
of life and death,
the bastion of fear,
the reservoir of disappointment—
and saw myself—
a bundle of nervous energy,
a gaping wound,
an almost endless need.
Then I looked away, and forgot
what I had seen.
So, I looked again, and saw,
for a moment,
the rage which I disguise
as hunger.
But, then, something opened—
the heart, the lips, the Eastern gate—
And our hands became the hands
of Our Lord,
Our glance of deep affection
became the loving message of God’s Christ.
A poem from my book “Seasons of Hope”
Blessings, John