“Delivered From The Furnace Of Affliction”

My emotions seem to be expressed

In dreams. Just the other day, on a

Saturday afternoon, a man knocked

Loudly at my door claiming to represent

One of the utility providers. I didn’t

Answer the door but spoke through the

Window. I knew it wasn’t true.

I have had several people knocking in the middle

Of the night which is even more frightening than

During daytime. I went to bed feeling uneasy.


In a state of exhaustion from

A night of fears

Nightmares and dreams and

Every conceivable thing

Laying asleep

On my bed of infirmities

I beheld a basket descending

Full of every vile imagination

Of lust and sin

Terrified I was forced to face


Jealousy and pride, anger and


About to consume me when it

Brought to mind

The command to Peter of old

‘Rise and eat’

My answer and plea

“But of these things I have no

Power or control’

Sweetness has turned to bitterness

Only a Power from above can

Eat and destroy these things

That torment me night and day

That which has been hidden with

Greed and deed

These things are distasteful

I look to you Lord to take them


But his reply

“A furnace of affliction I have

Prepared for you

That these may be consumed

With fire and flame

From the chain of abuse

And disgrace

You have born

Then you will be set free

And delivered


Once again I fell asleep

Another dream appeared

My body cringed and

Sweat upon my brow

Reluctant to allow such

A frightful scene

Shuttering at this sight

I am placed in

A sepulcher of death

A mass is said!

Choirs in lofts sing in lamentations

Drums pounding expressing

The grief for another child

Taken by the thief

Solemness so deep only

‘Amen’ is said

In a Latin dirge a litany is



An allegorical dream

I lay in a coffin


I am unchained from this

Earth with an early death

The black hearse rolls

Before the cathedral


Carrying my body in repose

A red rose has been

Placed above my breast

There is silence but for the

Cloven hooves of horses

As they move on cobblestone

Streets bearing my body

Shaded windows keep

Me from the inquisitive eye

Priests in black robes file

Down the road carrying

Censors sweetening the

Death ridden air

Followed by monks pressed


As they further their quest

Claiming my life

Posting upon the cathedral


A rusty nail placing me in

A death ridden jail

All again is silent but the

Shuffle of feet

Chanting their venomous song

“Who will win this battle for this


“Who will prevail?”

Angels answer

“Jesus! He is the victor

Over death!”

“Victory is won!”

“Oh death where is your


“Salvation he brings!”

“She shall dwell among

The living!”

I am released from this

Body of death

For pity and sorrow I repent

Words ascending filling the

House of God with crescendos

The veil has been lifted

Rising above my

Sackcloth and ashes

From my frame a black dress

Has fallen

Naked before him

Waiting to be clothed

He has claimed my attire

At the cross

Hell’s flame has no more


My name embossed in

His book of life

Stepping out of this body


An ‘Allegorical Dream’
Is taken from the book
‘Weeping Child to Forgiving Child’

Read more at:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s