..
The walls get taller,
taller
taller
taller, still.
We thrash and splash
our treading-water will
along shores still broken.
We store up all the wrong
things, the burned-out-battered
suns, toss
the ones
that truly matter.
Until,
He comes;
builds a door. Leaves
it open.
..
A second offering for Victoria’s Q44 over at dVerse. Come play!
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
De, you know how I would love this wonderful, metaphoric poem. That quote from Rev. is my favorite in that book…not my “favoritist” book in the NT. Ha!
Normally I wouldn’t advise using the same word 4 times when you are limited to 44 total, but the repetition of “taller” works so well here. I love that He comes and makes an open door in the walls we build.
Great message. I love the style and meaning of this poem.
Love “treading-water will
along shores still broken.”
And the beautiful, inspiring end.
Beautiful!
“toss
the ones
that truly matter.”…and such acts at last lead to ‘He’ & that opened door to breathe….
I really love the open door in that great wall… (I wonder if it’s worse to be shut in, or standing on the outside)
Inspirational verse, De ❤
I am a little confused…but I’m sure you are not talking about Trump’s wall!
I like that the title says she might want four wings, not just two. Ooh, there was a pretty little hummingbird cozying up to my wind chimes a little while ago. It made me SO happy. 🙂
Everything about this poem is perfect. The rhythm, the line breaks. I think my favorite is the part about Jesus leaving (dying) at the end, which is HOW He leaves the door open … even though we’re so busy “storing up the wrong” … and the wrong things.
Beautiful.
I think the walls have to do with the Tower of Babel. Trying to turn ourselves into gods and such.
And yes, I’m really fed up with my faulty oven burning up all my batter. 🙂
sMiLes..
i find ‘he’ never
coMes unless one
builds a field of dreAMs
first.. and finds ‘him’ within
as Father/Mother/Son/Daughter/Brother/Friend
aLL other ones/Nature and Holy SpiRit isreAL noW..onE but that’s
just
‘me’..
iN Heaven now..:)
I liked the last three lines where help comes from the outside but then only leaves the door open and doesn’t force us to use it.
We store up all the wrong
things, the burned-out-battered
suns, toss
the ones
that truly matter.
Love this.
Lovely twist at the end.