The Gatehouse Cross

8 August 2010

Gatehouse Cross, Herefordshire

Through this gate we must pass, noticed or not,

through light beyond dark, the splinters and iron nails we travel,

across the moat, on trembling boards

to the haven of home,

with lighted rooms and familiar scent.

God of bone and flesh, guts and blood ,

bear the vulnerablity from which we wince,

the tense horror of anxious moments,

the inescapable track upon which we’ve been set,

the destination unavoidable,

for this is not of our choosing,

conception and birth not our decision.

Quench our thirst by the cup you have given,

fulfil life by the manner of our dying,

die as you have lived, for us, with us and through us,

so rest may come.