When love again shall grace us

When love again shall grace us

Doors that slam in stark surprise,
no more or less are open
than doors that creak and gently shut
by those whose hearts are broken. 

There's time for sanctuary
from the ache of broken hearts,
to soothe the wounded spirit 
that love has ripped apart. 

Weep, my friends.  An end has come.
Bathe in quilted sorrow. 
Bleed yourselves of guilt and shame
then rise up in the morrow. 

The sun is but a door
that opens every morning
and choice is but a key
that turns the lock but slowly.

And every day must end, my friend.
With sunset, doors are closing.
But light of day and flame of night
are in you, ever glowing.

Burning flame or numbing void,
which risk to soul is greater?
Lit candles choke in rooms closed off.
Fire flickers in the gale. 

If hearts, like flames, oft divide,
and dwell in separate places,
may others join in wholeness be
when love again shall grace us. 




SWPoet
1-21-14