The Door

I am not much of a follower,
but today I am following Rabbi Jesus;
he has taken off his sandals,
and I am wearing them for this 
borrowed moment.

He said: I Am The Door.
Jesus may be the last human being,
the rest of us following - after the fact.
That which was, is, and has yet to be
- all just a shot glass of moonshine.

His sandals are too light for my heavy feet
they float away like paper kites in the wind.

A vision of a winding file of us all
(both shoeless and shod),
entering that Door;
angelic sheepdogs nipping at our heels.

Maybe I’ll be one of the slackers 
at the back of the line?
I won’t mind so much,
as long as I can look back, and see that Door
shutting out this revolving hell of world
forever.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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