Two Doors
One door is black,
Perched like a crow, On it's elegant door frame. The other is brown, Dull like a sparrow, Weary and worn. Into the black one, Goes a fine woman Dressed in red silk. Her skin is pale, Eyes tinted in blue, Lips bold, shining red. The brown door opens. Wizened features protrude, Hoping, waiting. Beyond the old man I see row upon row Of books in their shelves. Crystal blue eyes, Cut through the twilight, Then disappear. An elegant young man, In boots tall and courtly Stops at the doors. His upper lip curls And his thick eyebrows lift At the calm, splintered door. Eyes flick away as One sleek glove clenches, And raps the black door. ~ Twilight deepens into dusk, Night takes on a chilly air – A shuffling step is heard. Rags whisper up the steps, Breath trembles at the doors, A long silence... then knock, knock. The brown door flies open, The thin face within Crinkles in delight. Shriveled arms and warbled voice Lift in joy As the stranger steps inside. Two doors. So close together, Yet so far apart. For in one sleeps A prostitute, Warmed by her prey. Just beyond the other, Faith is returning, As two old men pray. Behind these two doors, Two things are happening, Two lives are changed. As the sun's wakes the land, The young man emerges; Weary and desperate. His eye siezes the brown door, Unstately, umimposing. Nothing like him. He pushes it open to find Row upon row Of old dusty books. He opens one up and reads, "Thou shalt not have Any gods before Me." He sets it back down, And opens another. "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." He's startled by shuffling. An old man looks up at him Over the counter. "Can I help you, sir?" he asks. "Yes, may I ask you: Who are these speaking of?" The man takes the book from The gentleman's hands. "It is Jesus." A gust of wind Blows the creaky door shut, And I am left alone. The black door opens and Temptation steps out, Off to bag her next catch. She does not notice me, A small girl, Sitting on the cracked pavement. I've been sitting here, Since yesterday, Staring at the two doors. Two worlds, how vast A distance between The brown and the black. I look at the sky, Where the sun makes it's way From the East to the West, And there is my God. "Good finally won, eh, little one?" His smile is so like laughter, And his eyes so like crystals, I can't help but smile back. "God, why are there Two doors and not one? Why is there a choice?" "Because, little angel, My children can't love, If they cannot choose hate. "They can't truly love Me Until they have chosen Me over another. "A time will come someday, When I will remove The black door from it's hinges. "The choice will be made Forever and always When my son returns...." ~ Just as bright morning Lifts over the buildings The young man slips out. His smile suffuses The alley with sunshine. I'm so excited I close my eyes and shiver. As the man with the smile And the gentleman's cloak Turns down the road, I stand up at last, For I am to follow; I am his guardian angel. I take one last look At the black and brown doors, So close, yet so far. The crow and the sparrow, Just for the moment, Co-existing. |
From Joy:
This story was completely inspired by the above picture, found in Ragamuffin Prayers. |