… hidden doorways.

By J. K. McDowell

October 2016

 

The eyes close, the palms touch, the knees kiss the dirt.

Or a column centers a spinning disciple.

The Divine knows the Heart and the many ways to pray.

 

I have swept the path all week; all you need is a

Straw broom and the dance steps of Divine devotion.

These gathering blessings mingled among the dust.

 

Do you know these aggressions and transgressions,

Those above and beyond the usual forgiveness?

I cannot speak for the Divine, here or ever.

 

The Divine, behind the eyes of the One you Love.

Keep staring, keep dreaming. Not greed or desire,

Rather visions, made real over and over again.

 

Sweet Divine, never let me go.   I am a twisted

Tight tourniquet in your hands, soaked, stained,

Yet sustaining. Each beat, disaster averted.

 

There are many paths that lead to the Divine.

James, you never ask about the Kingdom Within.

The secret silent keys that unlock hidden doorways.

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