Where Do We Cling?

They cling to the screen door
At night by the front porch light
Wanting to go in to litter
themselves on His living room carpet.

Where do we cling?

We prefer evenings struggling to
Cling to the slick metal of the
Street lamp post at the end of the driveway…
Only looking at the screen door,
contemplating…
Should we cling here, or waste our time
flying towards the screen door like the others.
Not knowing,
Eventually, we fatigue in our toiling,
Trying not to fall, we begin to slip
Then at about midnight, just before our weariness overcomes us
we decide to fly for that screen door
And we fly with all our might.
But our clinging has worn us down
That lamp post at the end of the driveway
Has left us exhausted.
And we collapse just feet from
Our warm soft resting destination.
On our backs, just before we get
stepped on, we look up.
We see those who spent their entire lives
Clinging to the screen door
Slipping into the house onto the carpet
As the door is occasionally opened by Him.