The Spokesman


She heard that slow, methodical

knocking at her door, and

she could just picture

those aged, bony

knuckles as her mouth

went dry.

She was about to

answer the summons

and suddenly remembered.


“Jesus, please get that for me.”


The handle turned,

and with absolute authority

He spoke.




Adios fear.




6 thoughts on “The Spokesman

  1. Wonderful imagery, Carol. I felt both the tension and its release in this poem.

    Thank you, Becky. Fear can be an intense thing, but it is no match for Jesus.

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