let me sweep your church
I’d leave the door ajar
to split the glimpses of grace,
remind them who you are.
those who peek within
drawn to your loyal side
& you would see without
the futility of pride.
I’d stir up with my broom
the dust of fusty pews
service to a servant
a friend they stand to lose.
I’d clean the stained glass too
for a little light to shed
in a gloomy, stale state
the vision’s limited.
let me sweep your church
I’d fling the door back wide
so you might hear your calling
to stay, or step outside.
©Peter Clague