Poetry

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The Garden Gate

I asked you to come and walk with me awhile;
To be my friend through many endless miles.
You agreed and didn’t we skip and play
Then we came to a narrowing of the Way.

The day drew damp and dreary, as some days do;
You claimed weak and weary and away you flew.
And I alone climbed on up the hill.
I was afraid without you, why didn’t you know?

“The Gardener will watch out for us,” I called.
But no, excused you 'must be off to your own bed'!
“My Brother would be watching even now,
To show us all the beauty inside the gate.”

“The sun will be bright and warm on Father’s eave.
He will greet you cordial calling you by name.”
“The aroma of ten thousand gardens and a flickering flame,
Will cause you to forget the road you chose to leave.”

My hand upon the Gate, I turned to wave you gone.
I heard you laugh that silly laugh one last time.
My heart swelled and twisted, would it tear in two?
Ache and agony with want to run after you.

Many have come this far and done the same
Turning back around when they reached this lane.
Here lay scattered all the toys of games yet played.
Back they’d go to all they knew, and so did you.

“I love you, Nettie!” I cried it one last time.
Just then my tears dried as a hand touched mine.
My Brother opened up the gate and drew me in,
Darkness on bowed knee, surrenders to the Light.

Every other thought had been forgotten
In the Beauty and the Glory of the Garden
As hand in hand we entered into Rooms
Where all Knowledge and Peace Begins and Ends.

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