The Coming

old wooden door with no admittance on it.

Grace came calling –
sneaked in the back door.
(Heaven knows who let him in.
Some peasant girl, probably,
with more sentiment than sense.)
Light showed up shoddy housekeeping –
cobwebs in corners,
dirty dishes,
dust everywhere.
Truth made Himself at home,
(The cheek of it!)
pointing up our flawed arguments with parables,
turning our tried and true traditions upside down,
flaunting the house rules,
and expecting us to go along with it!
And the friends he used to bring home!
Riff-raff! Out of the gutter!
An absolute disgrace!
Well, we showed him!
We showed him the door.
(The back door, the same one he came in by)
Washed our hands of him, we did!
“Good riddance!” we said.
But then came the rumours.
“He’s back in town!”
He’s coming your way!”
Oh no. You can’t fool us!
He’s dead and gone – we made sure of it!
We went back inside,
locked our doors
and barred our windows.
(Just in case.)
It’s a lonely prison,
but we don’t dare open the door.
(There’s that knocking again!)
It might be him.

© Sr. Sandra Sears CSBC
18th December 2007

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Christmas Poems

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Ash Wednesday

Maundy Thursday

Good Friday

Holy Saturday

Easter Day

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