Tuesday, May 27, 2014

It wasn't a knock

It wasn’t a knock
but a pounding, shaking
the door. He sat, the pages
open before him, hearing
the vibration from the door,
an axe hacking at an already
fallen tree. He knew the time
had been coming, arriving
in thunder. He first thought
to hide the small cross
around his neck, the cross
that was his noose. Instead,
he waited for the door
to give way.
He heard the first splinters.

Photograph by Teodoro S. Gruhl via Public Domain Pictures. Used with Permission.


Doug Spurling said...

Great Glynn "...the cross
that was his noose. Instead..." became his door to Life.

Could the past pounding, shaking be thundering the future?

davis rosback said...

Someone is listening...

wielenga said...

A powerful piece...did you have a particular martyr in mind as you wrote it?