A poem for Lent
If I were to empty my heart
it would spill.
I’m not sure if the drawbridge once opened
I’m not sure if this heart is prepared yet for Lent.
Until Lent recalls to me,
how the heart is wooed and welcomed,
until in trust it relents.
Its openings exposed and undone
in slow and steady increments.
And Lent which is a season
of wintering ending in spring,
reminds me that the things frozen now,
to growing warmth succumb.
Floods arrive in due season, when the banks give in.
Until then this heart, too afraid to be prised,
is a door locked and attended to
by a locksmith fashioning keys.
Each compartment sacred,
with its time for emptying.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry