Door
Everyone looks for a door. A door like Jesus, who is an opening in the shape of man. A lacuna between the worlds, like Mary, who is a wound in the shape of woman. Everyone looks for a portal leading to an empty chamber filled with secret palaces. We meet here while our bodies are dreaming. We forget how much we need a gateway shaped like someone we can trust. Come, take the master's hand. Step through the hollow center of the shadow where your last breath has already gone. Meet Mira here, the poetess. Meet Rumi and the Magdalene, Mohammad and the Baal Shem Tov. Encounter the ancient Deer Priest, the Shaman who rattled your bones, changing your skeleton to a snake den. What century you came from doesn't matter. What religion your fathers gave you is the warm old Winter coat you put away in Spring. Come, meet Ishtar weeping as she looses and lets fall her seven garments of silence and self-aba...