On the outskirts of certainty,
Bordering the shadow of a doubt.
The obscured pathway is hidden,
Leading beyond and out.
“Don’t you dare go out there!”
“Don’t even think about going near.”
The voice of certainty speaks,
Defending the status quo with fear.
“Stick with us and you’ll be fine.”
“We’ve got everything you need.”
Suspicion abruptly arises within me,
Bullet proof conviction contains a tone of greed.
Answers, responses and retorts.
Are these folks capable of reflection?
No wonder people just like me
Are considering defection.
Regurgitation of firmly held belief.
Behavior trips on lip-service,
Detainees seek relief.
Doctrine on lockdown.
Inmates hold the key.
Eyes blind to confinement.
Captives on bended knee.
Litmus of liturgy.
Morning rays penetrate the cell.
A sound whispers within the intrusion-
The echo of a distant bell.
Mustering the courage,
I peek with one eye on a whim.
I catch a fleeting glimpse,
The shadow of a hymn.
Bible black as coal.
Breath of Life measured in pounds.
Too feeble to embrace you.
Reluctance that confounds.
Convicted that there is more.
I released the chains I held.
Staggering out Wittenberg’s door.
Strength returned to my wings.
I leapt from my perch.
I soared above their heads,
Out the window of the church.
Toward the bell in the distance…
An unmistakable tone.
Joined along the way by others,
Deeply grateful I’m not alone.
the bell’s coming into sight.
A chorus of voices come from nowhere.
We soar in ceremonial delight.
The warmth of the updraft,
Lifted higher by the breezes.
He comes into view…
The Music Maker Himself – It’s really Jesus.
As you ponder your posture on your perch,
Wondering whether to come out.
Contemplate the outskirts of certainty,
On the border of a shadow of a doubt