Colin F. Jones

LOCKED DOOR

‘Twas late at night and I was feeling low,
I needed comfort especially in my mind
I sought a Church, the best place I could go
And indeed an easy place for a man to find.
‘Twas an awesome sight; the steeple and its cross
Brightly lit for the entire shire to see.
It was so prominent, raised up there aloft,
And surely it seemed to beckon me.
But the doors were closed, and so firmly locked
That I could not enter there to say my prayer.
The entrance to God’s house, to me, was blocked
That I soon forgot the reason I was there.
I no longer seek to open the church door
For God does not reside there anymore.

©Copyright August 31, 2001 by Colin F. Jones

Author’s Note: Often over the years I have felt a need to go into a church and sit quietly and talk to God. I had always considered, and still do, that the church belonged to the people, and not to the Priest who was in residence, despite that in practice the opposite is true. Many years ago the churches decided to close their doors, probably because the priest didn’t like working overtime, though of course that was not the reason given.