The Barrier

MARGARET HOUSTON KAUFFMAN

All day I watched for that bright messenger
Of whom my heart had heard. I swept my room,
Made bright my windows, opened wide my door.
"How will he come?" I asked. They answered me,
"A step so soft no other ear shall hear,
'A still small voice,' a kind and shining light."
Oh, heart astir! Oh, eager, waiting hands!

I watched all day; and when the night came down,
I closed my eyes upon their tears and said:
"My house is dark and I am still alone.
Why did he pass me when my door is wide?"
Soft was the answer, "Tho' your door is wide,
How could one enter?" And I looked and saw,
Even in the dark, the barrier of stones
Upon my threshold. Little stones and large,
A strange dark pile that must have secretly
From day to day been builded.

In the dark,
I lit my lamp and, kneeling on the floor,
Lifted them slowly,—stones of hate and pride,
Malice and fear, and the great stone of self.
All night I labored by the little lamp,
And in the dark hour just before the dawn
I knew I had but entered on my task,
Had but begun.

Send a comment to the editors

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit

The Barrier

We'd love to hear from you!

Sign up for unlimited access