Closed Doors Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Chapel doors are closed against the prayers of men, being
left out in the dark cold of night.

Nothing can prevent the whispering of prayers sent inside
to God, even though the doors are locked.

Wondering at the lack of trust we have for our own kind,
God sits above, silently rebuking the false ideals of man.

Seeing a love of things that are material, are so much
greater than our love for Him, Jesus, cries each night,
spilling yet, tears within His garden.

Loveliness, the sorrow of the blue rose has sprung from
this, Jesus's infinite sorrow.

Touched by the depth of His love for me, giving gladly,
everything I own or am.

Wanting to go inside a chapel quietly to tell Him so, man
again prevents my doing so.

Doors of the chapel are shut tight, locked keeping me
apart from our Lord upon the altar.

Allowing me only to whisper out in the cold offering Him
my own little blue rose of sorrow.