Descent

By Sheila Dougal

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I thought I’d go the highway
Stay on the straight and narrow way
Yet – a child drawn away by shining things –
I strayed. And then, aware of my
Drift, I turned to go the way up to
Heaven's gates. But I found the path
Does not ascend a craggy mountain,
Rather it winds down to
The shadowed hollow, to the 
Alleyways and wayward strays 
And lost prodigal children. There 
By the toilets with the addicted 
And the demented. With a hand full 
Of mud for the blind and pills 
For the resented mother with her 
Depression and the son whose brain is 
Now half-missing, the result of a head-on 
Collision – too much methamphetamine. 
There by the hospital bed and 
The marriage bed and the child’s crib 
With tired legs, I knelt, 
And, epiphany: 

The song of ascents winds down. 
Deep calls to Deep at the sound 
Of descending. Rush
To the valley, to the pool of 
Still waters where God heals his
Straying sheep.

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Sheila Dougal lives in the low deserts of Arizona with her husband and sons. Some of her poetry and essays are published at Fathom Mag, Clayjar Review, The Gospel Coalition, The Joyful Life Magazine and other publications. You can also find her at her blog, Cultivating Faithfulness, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.