Some days, unexpectedly
the temple calls to me,
as if pulling me up
from my dim, gray routine
to a place of radiating light
where higher views and renewed hope
speak peace to my trembling heart.
At first beckon, I struggle
to block out the clamor
of a busy, shifting world
whose vanity has pulled me
much too close.
Finally finding moments
still enough to be
enveloped in anticipation--
anxious to make the ascent
to my mountain top;
Slowly peeling off layers
of uncertainty and weakness
that have smothered my faith;
leaving me gasping for air,
and thirsting at false fountains.
Once dressed in white,
surrounded by purity
that quietly penetrates
even the tightly-guarded
corners of my heart
and cleanses my mind;
allowing glimpses of eternity
that bring me closer
to God, who is Master
of this Holy House--
a sanctuary
where for a few hours
I'm defined only by
my identity
as a daughter of God,
I leave strengthened, lighter,
more certain
that whatever price I pay
to be worthy of admittance
through celestial doors
is more than compensated
in the tender mercy
that called me here
and leads me home.
